Memory

The air was cold and clear. An icy wind swirled around fallen leaves. They dance across the floor just to fall back to the earth. The sun was obscured by black clouds and they seemed to press upon the world among them, make everything quiet. Only the rustle of the leaves and the ringing of church bells could be heard. It was a typical november day. An soft drizzle started and it seemed that even heaven grieved. Drop by drop it cried down at the small cemetery. The earth became wet.
The grave stone was cool and bare. L Lawliet, 1979 - 2004 stood on it. The silvern letters seemed out of place and yet so accurate. They looked straight in a way, on the other they seemed to glow.
In front of the grave was a single man. He had his hands buried deep in the pockets of his black jacket. Tense and sunked down he stood there, bited his lip and closed his eyes. „L..." he sighed. „I made a mistake." His voice drowned in the rush of the wind. The man, Raito Yagami, he looked around himself. At the cemetery a grave lined up to the next. Some flowers and small candles stood on them. The candels flames flickered restlessly in the wind. Nevertheless, it seemed impersonal.
Raito shivered and pulled the jacket tighter around his shoulders. Lost in thought, he ran his fingers through his hair, which was damp from the blamy rain already. He had failed. Failed miserably. Although he had achieved his goal, but he realized that he didn't wanted this goal anymore. But too late.
Raito sighed again. „I'm so sorry." He mumbled to himself. „All that now remains to me… Is the memories of you." He was shaking. His voice trembled. How could he be so foolish. „But you know what, I don't want those memories! I can't touch them, can't talk to them. They're only in my head and not fixed." Raito became louder. He fought against the increasingly trembling of his limbs. Meanwhile he was soaked wet. The rain pelted down on Raito, soaking his clothes and mingled with the tears on his cheeks. He didn't cried often. He hated to cry, but now... Now he couldn't do anything to prevent it. Dosen't want to prevent it.
„How could you?" He yelled now, clenching his hands to fists. „How dare you! You scold yourself an master detective and then you let kill yourselfe that easily? Why did you leave me alone with these damn memories?" The more he said, the louder he became, the more he pressed his hands together. Raitos fingernails cut into his palms, scratches left behind from which leaked a little blood. But it did not interest him. He just stood there breathing heavily. Stared at the gray stone under which his friend was.
For minutes nothing happened. Everything remained as it was. Then Raito wiped the sleeve of his Jacket over his face and turned around. He did not return again as he walked between the other graves through to the output of the cemetery. He leaved L simply behind. He loved nothing better than leave his memories there as well, but he could not. With them he would have to spend the rest of his life.