Ten Minutes

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Exactly eleven days after Miss Summers death, a young man from the east of the country came in to the west and settled in to the seaside town. He'd been called by Amy Summers in discovering that he had received a letter from her daughter. He had sounded as though he had choked up a lung in discovery that his long time, childhood friend had died, and not only died, but committed suicide. He's arranged to be out of school for a few days, and rushed on to the next train he could get himself on to.

He'd arrived at a dusty motel a few minutes from the home of his friend, but he'd stayed there for a day or two, aware he'd have to wait to open his letter, he was delirious at that point because all he could smell was her, her perfume, the perfume he bought her every year as her birthday gift and it was mixing with a smokey smell. The funniest thing for the boy with shadowed eyes was that he swore, as he looked on towards the rose garden park that he'd seen his sunshine run in and out of the park, stopping only for a second to pass something to another boy he could have sworn he'd seen once or twice before and then they fuzzed out as though they were never there.

Although he was curious, he refused to leave the motel to see this boy. Instead he'd focused on running through what her mother had told him, and the few television channels this room had access to. When the time was up, and he'd woken on the eleventh day, he stumbled around getting dressed, taking a piece of toast from the breakfast rack and moving swiftly out the door. He grabbed a cup of coffee from a café nearby, and one of Miss Summers' favourites cakes. He noticed an older woman staring at him from behind her newspaper as he ate his products, before she walked out the café swiftly. Perhaps she just remembered him from before he left the town.

He didn't exactly rush towards the Summer household, instead, he took a gander at the places he'd left when he'd turned eighteen. Miss Summer was his childhood best friend, to an extent he'd even let her braid his hair, and although he pleaded she wouldn't, he always hoped she would as it lit up her face even then. He walked from behind the home and tried to climb over the two-person high wall. He was almost there when he felt someone push him from below, and when he had finally found himself stable on top of the wall, all he could see was a brunette ponytail disappearing in the wind.

When he did arrive he was met by the smallest smile, but it was the only one Amy Summers could manage. Although she'd been getting better, even in such a short period of time, she didn't feel she'd lost someone, her daughter was still around and she could feel it on her skin. She still cried herself to sleep at night, but she was sure that would fade.

She handed him a neon yellow envelope and sat him down in the living room, a change for her, she always indulged in bringing out her homemade goods that had been burnt to a crisp, and offering tea, yet this time she felt the boy would like to be left completely alone with no distractions, he was always like that, even as a small child. "Dear Michael,

How are you my dear? I'm aware we've not talked in years upon years. I had a strong desire to write you a letter, as after all, you have always been my closest friend, and as I write this Katie looks over my shoulder with a glum look on her face.

I have never adored anyone quite like I do you. You always amazed me up until the day you left. You always had this outstanding positivity I never quite understood. How could you be so chirpy? You were constantly in situations of stress and anxiety and you didn't budge from full smile mode.

I'm aware that you would have fought tooth and nail for this letter because out of everyone you are the only one who cares deeply twenty four seven, no matter the cost. I have to tell you something, something you might have been confused about for a matter of weeks. He sent you a letter before this date, before Katie and I's death out of this world, out of the perfection of black and white.

It was unmarked, unspoilt, and in crisp emerald lettering.

He explained to you his entire plan you know, while you were fixing his car, you read it, while he bought everything he needed to do it, and knowing you, you would have thrown it out as junk mail, or perhaps thought it was a neighbour, but I need you to know it was not either of those, it was meant for your eyes and only your eyes.

If my facts are correct, you would have seen hints all over the place. The way my grandmother looked at you in the café for example. The smell in your motel room even. I know this letter is short my sweet but I have run out of things to say, and I know you will have a break down if I say anything else!

Just know that I love you Michael, and you will always be my angel.

Your dearest friend."

Michael didn't understand, and quite frankly he wasn't sure he wanted to. He'd travelled all this way for a goodbye and that was all. He loved her really, but he couldn't let this eat him up any further. He stared up at the sky as he watched a dove walk along window on the outside and look inside at him. He glared, but it failed to move. It starred him down.  


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