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.

Azra

m i 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,

Azura.

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.