Green Streak

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He sometimes sat here, on the saggy spot. In fact, he wasn't even here, and you felt his presence. If you were crying in the middle of the night, he'd always be there. Why did he do that? He was always so kind, so fucking caring that it was impossible to be angry at him for a long time. He always thought that you were the most important person to the world and unintentionally quoted Doctor Who (having never watched the show):

"I've never met someone who wasn't important."

What was he thinking? You never knew what was going on in his head. He may be thinking about his channel or coffee or worrying about whether he had locked the door or not. He may be absentminded sometimes, but serious in troubles.

Or at least he was.

One time in winter you had forgotten your hat when you went on a road trip. He insisted you wear his, despite freezing his ears off. That was one of the most adorable things he's done. You know, he purrs in his sleep. Not loud like an actual cat, but hearable. He doesn't even realize that, and you never bothered to tell him. You wanted to enjoy that little secret, make it yours.

That was a nice time.

You loved to drink with him. He was always so nice at the start. You laughed at his conversations to himself on philosophical subjects. Then the Irish blood kicked in. He called himself "the bravest and bossest man on earth". You were as drunk as him by that time, so you always agreed with him. Then the soft stage started again. He called you the best names. Kitty, angel, baby, beautiful.

He CALLED.

He got into the car. He was drunk. "But he never drives, how could this happen?" you thought to yourself. Indeed, he never got his license.

How?..

You stood at the funeral. Right there, by the grave. It was raining like in the movies. The graveyard, the sky, his face... His green hair was the only color in this sea of gray. It diluted the whole situation in the strangest way possible. You couldn't believe that the person who always had color, emotion and happiness in them could dissapear so easily with only that green streak awakening memories of them. You didn't want that last bit of him to go. Not now. Too early.

Too early...

As you exited the graveyard, you notice someone standing in front of his tombstone. You couldn't see properly through the tears in your eyes. The person turned to you, put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and nodded as if in approval, smiling. His hair was was almost gray.


And had a green streak in it.




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