Sorry, little girl, you better dry your tear filled eyes. Your chin better lift itself and your lip can never quiver. Sorry, little girl, there are more important feelings; more fragile people that need to be cared for. All the other hands are already being held. Sorry, little girl, but no one is there for you.

The distinct click-clack of rustic red leather cowboy boots were what first captured my attention. She had her nose in a well-worn book as she shuffled down the parkway to a bench. As she turned the page, I could see an indentation of her fingers on the cover. Although she must have poured through the pages numerous times, she was chewing on her slightly plump lips as if she wasn't sure what fate were to become of her favorite character. The frames of her glasses were not intentionally big, but appeared bulky due to her small stature. The black lenses would occasionally slide down her sun-kissed nose but would soon be readjusted without notice. Her skin was pale enough that her old and slightly frayed jeans must surely still stain her legs blue. As I was about to tear my eyes away from her innocent demeanor, a slight breeze rustled through her kinked long hair exposing a symbol of defiance inked in the form of an animal between her shoulder blades. Her presence was a foreign pleasantry.

"So this is what it's like?" Her voice matched her eyes: soft and innocent.
She clasped her hands together tightly in attempt to hide the tremors.
Her normally flushed cheeks were as pale as her white knuckles.
I wanted to caress her, tell her I was sorry.
My jaw opened, but immediately closed.
Neither of us had anything else to say. We both had all of our answers.
I fought myself to not entangle my fingers into hers.
I knew her now corpse-like hands would be too realistic to hold.
A once tangled triangle now remains a single line.
My eyes flashed up to meet her watery oceans.
I would always love her.
Our heads bowed down to peer back into the coffin where not only my best friend would forever rest, but also all of her love.

Centuries have past. My callused heart can vaguely recollect your precious face. It would be a lie if I said that I struggle through the days anymore; I've adapted. I attempted to condition my body to not ache for you. Instead, my body merely accustomed itself to loneliness. It's only when waking up from a familiar dream, my defenses weaken, and through a daze, I realize just how much I miss you.