“D-Darling, d-don’t, you… w-w-worry… T-The s-s-sun will c-come out-t in a hur-r-ry…”
Fingers softly brushing over thin strands of red hair.
“The d-day has j-j-just, be-e-gun. Darling, don’t y-y-you fr-ret. This bea-ea-eautiful day has, just, begun.”
There was silence otherwise. The wind died along with her. The grass and leaves halted movement. The animals became wood.
“And n-nothing could, ever, hur-hurt you. So l-long if our love is… tr-tr-true…”
A pause to intake breath.
“So, darling… don’t… d-don-”
---
He had never seen hair the color as hers. It was bright, so beautiful—the color ‘alive,’ ‘happy,’ ‘excitement.’ And now, a forth word he associated the color with: home. He was left alone, she was taken from him. He had no home anymore. Nothing else to hold onto. Her parents were gone, her siblings, and now she was gone too.
His thumb lightly felt her fiery hair once more, looking upon her face. Then he stood.
She had to be buried.
---
I learned the song from her sister, who had a baby. She would sing every night. I even called her ‘darling.’ They did not live well, but they lived happily. They did not always have the things they needed, and yet… they were happy. Content, even.
It took me a total of sixteen shovelings of dirt to bury her.
“My name is Five. But I am no longer awake.”
Her family was gone. She was gone. I also became gone.