Breathless Love In Torns

It was a day that left a scar in the sky. A terrible day to die.

Not that there was a day when dying felt good but the sky was too clear and the day was too bright. A perfect day to die wouldn't have such an innocent atmosphere.

Whitney stole a glance at the lively blue sky tainted with white clouds that took the shape of life itself. The sun. It was gold-crisped and warm, holding no sign of grimness. Her eyes trailed behind the cluster of flying birds that made themselves artwork in the skylines. Their flappy wide wings outstretched as the wind tossed them from north to south.

It seemed more like a day to drink coffee and laugh. A day to seat by the river bank and listen to the sweet gurgles of fine pebbles when thrown into the water. A day to spoil oneself with a cupful of fun. A day to admire the alluring radiance of white clouds …but it was not a day for all of that.

It was the day Stefflon ceased to breathe.

The day everyone close to Stefflon would cry their eyes out while combing through their boxes and rummaging through their wardrobes and alcoves for black clothes as tears clouded their vision and made their eyes sore. The storm greeted all except Whitney.

No, she was always in black. She had, for long, been swallowed by blackness the moment she got the news of her friend's passing away.

Black raven hair, black pants, black shirt, black designer bag, and black shades. She needed the shades to conceal her sore eyes sac. She hated it when people peered into her grimy and sore eyes like they were reading her heart. She hated watching people witness the unending streaks of tears drip down her eyes.

A minute or even an hour passed since she received that call that had left her frozen for a handful of seconds. The call of Stefflon’s death. It felt like a sharp pain. A thrust by a blunt object. A sudden hole in her heart. A heart-wrenching emotional wreck. But, she knew the moment she shifted away from the window, she would have to accept it, embrace it and marry it—the fact that her best friend no longer breathes. The pain was an illusion of what she felt.

It could not be true. It cannot be true. It shouldn't be true. Why should it?

She mopped the tears that were pudding down her face without breaking her gaze on the sky. She wondered if Stefflon was somehow one of those birds or perhaps, the wind itself. Some people liked to believe that they’d return to the universe as birds when they die, some believe they would become butterflies, and some, the wind.

Stefflon herself always said she wanted to return as the sky and she always said she wanted Whitney to return as the cloud so their friendship would be forever.

Right there in the heart of the vast blue sky where they'd be free from the tassels of the painful and chaotic world. Whitney hated the cloud, not in a real sense, but she rarely bought the belief of returning as one when she died. To the amazon, a raven was preferable, or even a crow but now, as she peered at the sky, she had a desperation to be the cloud, to be close to Stefflon. Can I just be the cloud already?

Whitney finally broke her gaze from the sky, she ambled over to her office desk and collapsed on the black swivel chair beside it. Beside her desktop was a framed picture she had taken with Stefflon four years ago. She picked the picture and ran a finger through it. Her heart ached and more tears escaped her swollen tears-logged eyes at the thought of never seeing Stefflon again. It was so hard to believe.

They had been best friends since they were only nine and they had even gone to the same high school. They built a bond that withstood even the strongest turbulence between them.

Stefflon was mostly misunderstood; she had a strong personality; others misinterpreted it as being rude. The picture on her desk was from their high school graduation day. They had both shed tears afterward because they feared going to college would be the very end of their friendship; the same bond they spent the rest of their lives building.