"Class dismissed."
Moritz snapped out of his daydream and gathered his books, tugging up a sock as he went. Georg whacked Moritz in the arm with one of his schoolbooks, only to be warded off by Melchior Gabor, who clapped an arm on Moritz's shoulder. Georg gave him a hard look, but silently turned away with Otto, who turned their abuse to Hanschen.
"Okay, Moritz. Shall we begin with Greek and end with Latin?"
"I am afraid I cannot today—"
"We can stop at the bakery on the way home, grab a sweet! Then begin with the Greek…certainly, the conjugations need conjugating."
Melchior nudged Moritz along eagerly, pushing open the door and bursting out into the sunlight of early Spring. Melchior babbled on as Moritz fell back into his daze, making no attempt at cutting him off.
"Ending with Latin vocabulary will leave you just enough time to go back home for dinner, hm?"
A giant grin grew on Moritz's face, and he stopped in his tracks, turning to face his long-time friend.
"I am afraid I cannot focus on my studies today. Something glorious has happened, Melchi!"
Melchior's face fell and he reached out to grasp Moritz's shoulder.
"Oh?"
His ideas of studying were a thing of the past as Moritz spoke.
"Yes, Melchi, something glorious, I tell you!" With a jerk he turned and continued to walk towards home, Melchior trotting behind him to keep up.
"Well, tell me, Moritz!"
"A girl. A girl! A wonderful girl has asked if I would like to take a walk tonight. And I think I shall." His grin held steady, but Melchior's face held traces of concern.
"Who then? Martha Bessel? Not Wendla Bergmann?"
"Not Wendla. Not Martha!" Moritz halted again to look at Melchior. "A girl of mystery, and wonder. And spontaneity! A walk, I do not know where we will walk, but we will walk!"
Melchior stared down at him, eyebrows knit together.
"Who then, Moritz?" His tone was stern and questioning.
Moritz flung his arms out, then flapped them down awkwardly at his sides, smiling manically.
"Ilse."
Melchior breathed in heavily, letting his head fall to the side, his hands up to rub his temples.
"Moritz—"
In the square, the clock tower rung two o'clock, Moritz listened intently for the clangs of the hour, and stuck his hand out to Melchior, shaking it fiercely.
"I am already late, Melchi! I shall retell the tale for you at a later date!"
And he was off, leaving Melchior behind him, mouth gaping, forming words that he could not bare to speak to his best friend of so long. Alone now, marching quickly to the park, Moritz stopped only to look at his reflection in a store front. A hand through his hair was all he needed before he made a turn, a grin pasted goofily to his face. His breathing heightened as he rounded the corner once again, and there she was.
"Ilse!"
Moritz walked a few paces and knelt to the ground, putting his knuckles against her cheek. Cool and damp. He smiled. She didn't say a word back, just stared, eyes glinting with a grin. Moritz blushed and took his hand away. He longed for these fleeting moments. Where it was just her and him. He felt special, weightless, and he knew for a fact the smile wouldn't leave his face for days.
He didn't like to share these secret meetings with anyone else, only her.
"Moritz…"
Moritz looked up, a dazed smile on his face. Melchior stood by the street, a sad expression stressing his features. Moritz rose and looked down at Ilse, apologetically.
"Sorry, Ilse…What do you want, Melchi?"
Melchior took the few steps forward to stand next to his friend. Moritz backed up, carefully watching his feet step over the ground.
"Who are you talking to, Moritz?" Melchior knew the answer, but he had to ask it every time. Moritz looked up at him, features falling sadly, a mild realization coming about. Moritz stirred, confused, eyes becoming slightly moist.
"I was…" He gestured lamely to the ground, eyes gazing over the cold, damp earth, looking for his best friend who has been sitting at his feet moments ago.
"She was here, this time."
Melchior followed his gaze and knelt down, wiping grass and dirt off of a slab of stone. Moritz looked away, suddenly embarrassed.
"I…I miss her, Melchi." His voice was heavy. "She must be so…cold. Outside here…" Moritz's labored speech turned to heaving sobs, and instantly Melchior rose, grabbing Moritz into an embrace.
"I cannot leave her." Moritz pushed Melchior back and got on all fours, clawing at the dirt and grass, fingernails scraping away the hard, caked layer. Melchior knelt down, watching the horrific scene, and he reached out to grab one of Moritz's hands.
"You can't save her, Moritz."
The other hand still tried desperately to uncover his friend.
"Moritz, no! She's gone! Ilse is gone!" Melchior grabbed his other hand, and sighed as Moritz once again collapsed into his arms.
"She's dead, Moritz. Two years….Look at me."
Moritz slowly brought his head up to meet Melchior's eyes.
"No, Melchi. Ilse will not be gone while I am still here…she is in me. All of me."
Melchior nodded and searched his eyes, still wet.
"I know, Moritz. I know."