The Angel - Honma Meiko
Menma's silvery blond hair smelled of muffins. They already smelled like muffins since the first day we met. Kindergarten, I remember. Her hair spilled over that tiny head, a slow, trickling waterfall. Silky-straight, a jet-like waterfall. But the gracefulness was so hard to describe.
The muffin-like smell of her hair floated around the classroom as she wandered around, all smiles. Waving, giggling, chattering to everyone around her. We were drunk under her presence. It was her beauty, her charms, her grace. Everything. And a little extra for me, the muffins. They were exactly like the ones my mom made, white on the outside and a little fluffy on the inside, with bits of chocolate trapped in between bites of love, happiness, Life.
I don't even know what got me into the messed up life of leaving school, all of that seems like some crazy joke, some kind of gag that makes people cringe after hearing about it. I listen to the neighbors' gossip. Things don't hurt, they just bore the hell out of you, I don't even talk to them, and they've never even seen me enough to talk shit about me. Life sucks when there's no shut up button, to get people to do so, 'cause they talk too much, their imaginations run wild.
And back then, all that time, I still saw Menma in her dress, the slippers, running against the wind. Her hair streaking across the purple sky as the sun went down. And I could smell it again, the muffins. She turned her head for a bit, and saw me. Then she waved as she ran towards the horizon. I couldn't even see what she was running on, concrete? The riverbank? Was that sand? And she just kept running.
Menma left again for the second time, this time for good. I remember the fireworks that day, the moment we set them off, I tried to stop them. Time slowed down that moment, I can't remember how I felt then, when the rocket launched into the sky and when I yelled. I realized, you can't stop physical things with mental power, it just doesn't work that way. But you can stop mental things, with physical power. Menma's return brought me to life, it was as if all these years, it was me being the dead one. Menma was just an angel awaiting death, and I was death awaiting for an angel. The Angel.