It'll be four months in just few days since that day happened. A day she hasn't thought would actually does.
Old ghost movies, stories, documentaries.. Different kinds of spooky things are being flashed in the screen. But she gave less than a care for those things. She was now staring outside by the window.
It's past ten o'clock in the evening and she hasn't gone to sleep yet. She looked up at the sky and saw how starry it was.
Tonight's sky is beautiful, she thought.
She has always liked the sky. Not more than she likes the ocean, though. She likes the idea of going to the moon someday and visiting the other galaxies. But the idea of staying in a summer house, with her dog or dogs, and with someone..
Someone.
An image of an american boy suddenly flashed into her mind. She gasped and swallowed a little hard, and bit her lower lip gently. Slowly she touched the window glass and with her finger, wrote letters in the foggy area.
J A S O N
She closed her eyes and memories of him came rushing in deep within her mind, her body, her soul.
She swallowed hard and tasted the bitterness. The bitterness of what they call "past". But that's not it, she always thought.
It's still not a "past".
She let her eyes do their job as tears began to roll down to her cheeks. Looking blankly outside the window, she smiled bitterly.
How can you consider something a "past" when it still hasn't ended?
