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The grave by restmlin

I watched silently as Harry placed a single rose on a heap of unwanted dirt.

“Please Aila,” he whispered, “Please come back to me.”

I saw Harry’s green, lifeless eyes begin to water. He walked away from my grave and sat down on an old, peeling bench chair that looked like it could hardly hold a feather, at the end of the grave.

I turned my face away from Harry and looked at the mound of dirt again. My grave. A tear cascaded down my cheek. I gulped down my urge to collapse onto the ground.

Here I was; watching Harry walk into depression because I was dead. I wish he could see me, to know that I’m still here, that I still try to talk to him.

I walked over to Harry, who was now wrapping his arms around himself. I couldn’t feel the coldness in the air, but I could still see a drift of mist coming out of Harry’s trembling lips.

I sat down next to him on chair. I could feel splinters prick through my white, thin dress that flowed around me whenever I walked. I looked at Harry. His eyes were red and his face was pale. A tear fell down his face and clung to his jawline. Harry quickly brushed it away and covered his mouth and nose so he could wipe away the excess tears that had lingered below his eyes.

>Harry let out a loud sob and fell back from his hunched over position. He slowly threw his head back to look at the darkening sky.

“Harry…” I whispered. I know he couldn’t hear me because I, to him, was not there. I did not exist anymore. I was just another deceased person. Nobody knew that I was a ghost, wishing for Harry and everyone to be able to see me. I have watched over Harry; how depressed he’s gotten. It’s unbearable to watch him like this.

I wish Harry could see me. To know that I still love him and that I always will, even though I’m… Dead.

I shuddered at the word. I just wish I could’ve taken back that night… When I got into the car, and drove myself off the road.

I rested my head next to his, on his shoulder.

“Sometimes, I imagine you…”

I stopped at looked at Harry curiously.

“Sometimes… I imagine you, right next to me…” Harry mumbled.

“Harry, I am here next to you,” I whispered in his ear. I then sighed. He couldn’t see me. He couldn’t hear me. I moved away from Harry and slumped back on the rickety bench chair.

“I imagine that you are always with me. Even though you’re… gone,” A tear fell from Harry’s face again. “I can almost see you, next to me. When I’m sleeping, when I go out, when I watch TV.”

“Harry, I’ll always be here for you,” I said.

“It kills me to know that you’re not here anymore…” his quivering voice trailed off.

“Harry… I love you,” I said quietly. My lips formed a straight line and I looked down at the ground.

“I love you too, Aila.”

I smiled and rested my head back on his shoulder and we looked at my grave together. Why us?

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