a painting of blues;

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Slow, dreaded footsteps rang
throughout the empty land of death.
A land where the cold wind became
afraid of the hollow trees and the thin
branches, which swayed to the song
of sadness.

                       Azura, I
                                                 m i s s

Charlie moved up to the
gravestone; a block of
white marble that titled
who the person was for their
entire short life
in just a few sentences.

In his hand was a heavy bag of
colors, of paint brushes, of
ideas pouring at the seams.

He stared ahead silently at the gravestone
which was the only thing left for him
to see his love. I can't see your face,
I can't see your blue eyes. I miss
you, I miss you, I miss you.

And so, when he sat down next to Azura,
he whispered and stuttered and whispered
some more, a conversation flowing from
the veins of flowers surrounding them.

"A-Azura, hi, l-love. I've missed y-you. It's
been two years since you departed on a long
vacation. How are the skies? D-Do you sit
on clouds of soft fluffs? Have you talked to
G-God? Tell Him that H-He took you away too
soon. Tell Him t-to bring y-you back, please.
Azura, your genetics are pretty g-great," Charlie let
out a chuckle.

"W-We created two beautiful
children. S-Sure, it's hard but I'm raising them.
I-I send them to daycare so I can go to school.
They asked about you, Azura. I didn't know what
to say. And w-when the words p-poured out of my mouth,
it felt like y-you were there. W-Were you? Did you see their eyes

g-glisten when I told them how amazing
you are? How you watch o-over us? How you're
away at a j-job?

When they grow up, what w-will I say? Will it be
easier then? I d-do not think it will ever be e-easy,

My s-s-stuttering is g-getting better. I can
say words a l-little clearer. At least I-I'm not afraid
to speak a-anymore.

Mom is doing good, t-too. She
is w-working again. I w-wish she didn't have to
w-work but it-it's the only way we can raise
the children.

People s-say that having c-children
is a blessing. It is, but it's so hard. I-I can't sleep
at night. I-I hold them so they don't c-cry. Y-you
have to keep track of what they do and m-make sure
they are w-with you. I-I barely paint a-anymore." Charlie
sighed, took in a deep breath and continued, "I am going
to paint today, A-Azura. For you."

He opened up the bag and pulled out all of his
brushes and colors. He only brought one color,
but hundreds of kinds. He rubbed the paint
bottles and looked around the graveyard. Hundreds
even thousands of people who breathed and
blinked all lay there. All of which are shades
of blue, sadness, sadness, sadness.

He looked over to the person laying next to Azura,
a dark rich blue. He looked over to the person laying
above Azura, a light sun kissed blue. Blue, blue, blue.

"It-it's funny how b-blue is our color, A-Azura. Yet the
children l-like yellow. M-maybe it-it's a sign that
our sad days are over. Happiness i-is here, A-Azura."

And so Charlie painted and painted, wiped away
tears and painted till his entire outfit was immersed
in the colors of the ocean and the sky. He felt
peaceful, as if painting the gravestone in hundreds
of blues put away all of his anger and sadness
to rest. Tranquility entered his body and Azura
smiled from above.

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