Many thanks to Rupert (who suggested that I write a story based on this phrase that came out of my mouth once, during IRC -- I think it was, "Seeing DM at the con would be like seeing half of heaven!"), and Liquid Review (who kept me company while I suffered through writer's block, among others).

This is just the product of a pre-bedtime free-writing session. When I find the time, I hope to rewrite this into a full-blown angst-ridden piece.

In the meantime, I hope you like this one, just the same.

by Renny Ramos

I foolishly believed I had finally pushed you away from my mind, out of my life. That I was free of you, at last, and I could move on. I had counted on real life to consume the spirit of your memory. I thought a thousand hours of writing reports, solving cases and sentry duty would be enough to kill your voice in my heart; and all I would hear was the dull, soothing throb of living eating away at our past.

I was wrong.

Marching back in time, today marks the day I saw you leave with her. The day you walked away from me. The day my heart froze in the barren arms of death.

I still remember the night before you married her. Right after your bachelor's party, you asked me to take a walk with you. You said you wanted a breath of fresh air just before you called it a night. So we did. We walked through Chicago, as we had always done.

I remember the heat radiating from your body, and the brush of your hand against mine as you swung your arm in time with your stride.

Nothing extraordinary, really.

Except that you took my hand and you squeezed it tight; and you never let go.

I felt a surge of warmth pass through my body then. I swear, I could think of nothing else but your affirmation. This was it, half of heaven, coming down to bless my life.

I squeezed your hand back. We continued to walk; our fingers entwined against each other, as if nothing had changed. As if this act was ordinary. As if this was how things were meant to be.

But I was still your best man the following day.

You met her at the altar, all that joy spread across your face. And you made your promise to her. I remember keeping my head down; trying to be brave and failing miserably. I remember one tear escaping from my heart, falling down to touch my hand. It was neither the first nor the last.

Maybe you did love her. Maybe what happened that night meant nothing. But how come I am still paying for it?

So many years have passed since then.

And yet, all I continue to pray for is the day when your brand of pain finally vanishes from my heart.

- The End -