Has it always been this hard to breathe? Has it always been so hard to cry? Should sadness be so numb? My chest feels heavy, but it doesn't hurt. How can one person… One act… One day… Is it really possible to… To feel so much about one person!?

My life had always been so plain. Nothing fazed me, my parents moved to another country due to their jobs, so I went to live with my uncle and aunt in Tokyo. I transferred to a high school not ten minutes away from their place.

I had no problems fitting in, in fact, people flocked to me. They were boring, always wanting something. Life started to change from color to black and white. Everyone looked and acted the same. Everyone except my love interest, that is.

I met Kazuhina Hariku (surname/given name) after school in the library. She was reading, of course, but the way she read was fascinating. Her eyes went from playfully soft to seriously intense every few pages. She would give slight gasps every now and then. She had light brown hair that was neatly bobby pinned away from her face, the rest was short, but full. Her eyes were breathtaking, they were a brown that I had seen on so many people, but never had I found the color so… So alluring.

It was a month of watching every day before I got the chance to talk to her. It was so cliché too, our hands reached for the same book, softly touching. Her fingers twitched when mine skimmed them.

"Go ahead."

I couldn't see her face; only her ears, which to my surprise, were dusted a slight red. I swallowed, her mannerisms were so cute.

I reached up and grabbed the book off the shelf; carefully looking at her out the corner of my eye, judging whether or not she was going to run. I then slowly grabbed her hand and maneuvered it so that it was palm side up. She turned to look at me as I did so, her face growing darker. I placed the spine of the book in her hand and smiled.

"Here." I said, not as smoothly as I wanted. My voice honestly almost cracked. My heart thudded in my chest. Geez, what am I, some school girl?

"Th… Thank you." She smiled back. "Um, if you would like, I… We could… Read it together..?" She barely managed to get it out, her voice shrinking by every syllable. I studied her face, trying to get over my startled self.

"Yeah, that sounds cool."

I was happy, we arranged to meet again the next day. After that meeting, we set up another. And another after that. By the fifth time meeting in the library, we exchanged contact information. We texted every chance we got, drawn out phone calls went through most of the night.

I really felt high, like no one could touch me but her. It was as if we had our own palace in the clouds. It didn't take long for us to start seeing each other outside of the library.

Our first date was just a window-shopping spree. We eyed the colorful products, I learned quite a bit from it.

I remember looking at a cell phone strap. It was a sky blue star with pink, sparkly edges. I remember asking her if she liked it, she smiled and nodded. I offered to buy it for her, but she was the type to turn down anything and everything. I learned later that that particular shade of blue was her favorite.

Months went by, and soon we graduated high school. We applied to the local college, she studied art, while I chose economics. She was the most fascinating artist. She could whip out portraits faster than I had ever seen. We moved in together to save on money. Neither one of us minded.

The night I finally told her I loved her, we were at a family restaurant close to our apartment. She had ordered a small dinner- I don't remember what- and a huge piece of strawberry shortcake. She would always eat the strawberry last; she was so funny about her sweets. She would always turn it over and eat the bottom first, and then she would take her strawberry and scoop the frosting that stuck to the plate. She always had a blissful smile while she ate.

I had cleared my throat and grabbed her hand. I remember regretting that because they started to sweat.

"I love you."

Her beautiful features lit up.

"It's about time you realized it, silly." The harshness of the words she chose was drowned. She was giggling as she tried not to cry. Joy overtaking her fully.

That night, we made love for the first time.

Several months went by, living together was even more joyous- even though I never thought that could be possible.

It was a Saturday, class was out for me but not for her. I went out and looked at rings. She wasn't the type to like the fancy, expensive cuts; but I looked anyway. As I walked out of a jewelry store, I noticed a small shop. It reminded me of our first 'real' date, so I went in.

My eyes rested immediately on that phone strap. I smiled to myself and bought it.

My phone rang around three in the afternoon. I grinned when I saw 'Hariku' flash on the screen. I answered before the third ring could even sound.

She sounded so happy, she said she had something to tell me. We made plans to meet at the family restaurant I had professed my love at. I paced, five couldn't come any slower. I made the decision to go and wait there.

When I arrived, it was quarter to five.

I sat at the table we had shared that night, toying with the cellphone strap.

The screeching of car tires filled the air.

Screaming, running and various other forms of noise clashed.

It was like slow motion, my head turned to see blood all over the sidewalk.

No.. No… NO!

I bolted from the table, almost knocking a waitress over. The doors to the restaurant flung open as I pushed past them and the crowd that began to form.

I forced my way to the front, my knees hit pavement. I couldn't believe it.

The sight was horrible, I would have puked had I not of been filled with shock. Papers flew all around. One caught on my shirt, I shakily peeled it off and read it.

'Kazuhina Hariku,' was printed on the paper. My eyes searched the paper, only picking up on few but powerful words.

'Pregnancy'

'Test'

'Proud to inform'

'Mother'

'Positive'

It felt as if mine and everyone else's world shattered. I scrambled to my feet, I don't remember much after that. I remember my hand hurting, becoming wet and sticky. I remember being pulled back. I couldn't hear anything, I could barely see or breathe.

It's been three years. Everything and everyone reminds me of her. I dream of her every night, of she and I during the pregnancy, after the baby came. What the baby would be like, what she would look like at our wedding. Were we going to have a boy or girl? Would they call me 'Papa' and her 'Mama' in that special cute way kids do? What would it of been like, waking up with our child between us?

I still have the phone strap.

I've tried putting it away, throwing it away, or at least taking it off my phone. But every time I tried, it wouldn't be gone two minutes and I would be fumbling to find it; apologizing every time.

Every year I visit her gravesite with a gun.

I wanted to join her.

I wanted to see her.

I wanted to stop feeling like this.

No, I didn't want it. I needed it.

This year… I write this.

This year… I shuffle down to her marker.

This year… I cock the gun.

This year… I kiss the phone strap.

This year…

Has it always been this hard to breathe? Has it always been so hard to cry? Should sadness be so numb? My chest feels heavy, but it doesn't hurt. How can one person… One act… One day… Is it really possible to… To feel so much about one person!?

This year… I see you again.