Bury a Friend

“Hey, Hisako…” Mei turns her head to the side, blades of grass poking into her cheek. Most of it is dry and dead, green fading into brown. The pulsing of her blood in her ears is like thunder, with the rise and fall of her hands on her stomach like the storming waves. She stares into familiar, deep, dark brown eyes—once so warm and nervous, but now so glassy and blank. Dull and not at all the way she remembers them being. “You aren’t really gone, are you?”

The not-Hisako beside her doesn’t reply. It doesn’t do anything more than wear her friend’s face, not even rustling the grass with its breath. Their faces are mere centimeters apart, but there’s no mistaking how cold the thing is, its lips chapped and stare piercing. She can see the veins in its eyes. There’s an ant crawling on its face, but it doesn’t dare blink. It just stares and stares. That’s all it ever does.

Mei sighs, pure bitterness, turning back so she can stare at the sky. It’s cloudy right now. “Figures.”Mei has a conversation with Hisako, even if she's not really there.