Hands in his pockets, he walked down the dark street. The street lights cast odd shadows in the pristine snow. Still more of it fell, some falling on his coat, some in his hair, some on his boots, and some on the ground. He was indifferent to it, trudging along in the snowy weather. He had set his mind to do this, nothing would deter him now.
The memories came in short flashes, as he passed the familiar landmarks that lead the way to his destination. There was the playground where many times, after hours, they would sit and talk, often letting their sleeplessness to carry them along until it was almost time to go back to work. He paused, and looked over at the snow covered jungle gym. It had been fashioned to look like a fire truck. He remembered sitting on it, along side her, just talking about life, and about the past. He shook his head and continued moving.
He passed up Arch Diner, another place laden in memories. The place was still open, even at 3:30 in the morning. He paused yet again, and his eyes drifted to the spot where they used to sit, sharing dinner or grabbing breakfast. There was dull ebbing pain he felt in his chest, and he turned shrugging it off, and continuing.
He had flowers with him, in a bouquet, and anyone just guessing, would think that he was going to surprise a lover, or perhaps has even been rejected by one. Both were not the case. He was simply going to see a friend. It had been almost two weeks since he'd been there to see her, and he promised himself he wouldn't go there too often. He didn't like where she lived now. It wasn't the neighbors or anything, or the area. It was just the ordeal of having to psych himself to go. He never went to see her at the same times, either. Sometimes late at night, sometimes, early in the morning. She never seemed to mind, she was always there.
When he arrived at the place, he braced himself to go see her, and trudged on through the snow to her plot. Her grave was waiting for him, the snow sitting gently on top of the headstone. The ground was untouched, and the vase that was there was empty. He placed the flowers in the vase, and kind of stood, thinking. There was so much he wanted to say, but it wasn't the same as back then, when she had been alive. He closed his eyes.
"...Jill..." He let her name hang in the air, the tenderness of her name spoken surprising even him. "...It's snowing. ...I bet you wish you were here to see it, huh?" He said. Silence followed. He took no comfort in this. He let out a heavy sigh, and looked away, refusing to believe that Jill ceased to stop living. But the wind blew, and the bitter cold brought him back.
Gently, he reached out and wiped down the snow that had gathered on top of her headstone. He brushed the snow that had collected in the engraving of her name, and finally, when he was done, pulled himself away. He slowly, brought himself to salute her.
"...Happy birthday." He finally said, turning to go before he became another warm body in the snow.