There's a girl walking behind me.
She's got on a pretty dress.
It's summer, because it doesn't have sleeves. She's barefoot, too.
There's a gentle breeze rustling her short hair. Sometimes she'll stop and just stand there, letting the wind blow... feeling it blow her hair, her dress.
I wonder what her face looks like....
She looks kind of short. Maybe in elementary school? That's what I'm guessing. I'll imagine... I'll put this together. She'll have a light red dress, not quite pink. Her hair will have some barrettes in it, one of them shaped like a butterfly. She'll have pretty blue eyes, and straight brown hair. She'll have a happy smile, and....
Of course, I can't be sure of these things.
Gradually, she stretches farther from me, becomes fainter... and she's gone.
The sun has set; her shadow is gone.
I continue walking in total darkness. Soon, though, the faint shadows of trees start to show on the ground. The moon is up. It must be a full moon, because I can't see it here.
The breeze is still as gentle as before. The leaves in the trees blow, and one tree has flowers that break away and fly through the air.
There's a lone shadow walking along. It's that girl again. She's looking down at the ground, and there's little circles falling around her. Tears, I suppose. I walk up to where she is, and stay by her side, trying to will her image to me. That dress, that brown hair, the butterfly barrette. Her beautiful blue eyes, her smile....
Though, her smile is no longer there.
Unless she dyed her hair, or lost her barrette, or grew out of her favorite dress... that's how my friend should look.
I long to comfort her... see what's wrong, make it better. Remind her of the time we both tried to make pizza together, how we mistook ketchup for pizza sauce... the day I gave her the barrette....
She continues walking at her slow pace until she reaches two short little trees. A string of little paper cutouts of butterflies connects the two. She reaches to her head, and brings her hand back down holding a small object. She attaches it to the string, right in the center. It's her barrette. The little blue butterfly one. The one I gave her....
For the shortest moment, the world is clear to me. I no longer wander in a world of shadows, and I see the moon, the gentle silvery light, the trees, the butterfly cutouts, her. The wind gently blowing her hair, her brown hair, and her red dress, she whispers “I made a pizza.”
Then it all disappears, and I'm sad, alone. She is but a shadow once more. But her voice still lingers. As she slowly walks away, her whisper echoes in my heart: “I got the sauce right. I was going to save you a piece, but then I remembered. I forgot to visit you today.”
Her whisper as quiet as the wind, she fades away: “I'll be with you forever someday.”
Her shadow fades away as I stay by the two trees, the ones she planted in front of the headstone.
She turns back when I whisper, “Bring some pizza.”
