“You did not even respond to my birthday wishes on Facebook, Ryan. We haven’t spoken in the last 2.5 years, I know, but you seem changed. I saw you at the parking lot last night, you did not even smile back at me and I found that strange. Are you the same Ryan who said, together or not, you will love me forever?”
Ryan starts walking.
“Listen to me, I am talking to you.”
Ryan turns back, stares at her and starts walking again.
“How is the therapy coming along? Please talk to me. I am sorry for not being around when you needed me. I know I ignored your texts. I thought you were happy with Irene. Can we please talk this out?”.
Ryan finds a quiet place and sits at one side of the old bench looking away from Bryna.
“You look happy now. I see you every morning on your daily walks. You’re probably enjoying your favourite music and it feels good to see you at peace. I was not sure if I should come and talk to you. More so, ’cause we’ve been on different paths for a while and we liked it that way, I guess. But now that you come by my house often and always look up at my window, I thought you would want to talk about how the last few years passed by.”
Bryna gets closer to Ryan, on the bench who is now whispering something.
“I can barely hear you, Ryan, speak louder.”
Yet again, she feels the comfort on the bench that read “In loving memory of Ryan Dale – 1994 – 2017”
“Can we please have our dinner if you are done talking to yourself, darling?”, mom yelled from the porch.

This is an entry into ODE-7, #helloween, hosted by the watchers of Room8 | ArtoonsInn. Do share your comments and rate the writing out of 10.

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