I'm just really sorry :( It really sucks when I have to create misery.

This just keeps gettin harder and harder. Prepare to shed tears like the great Niagra

~Jenna

TEN

Or stands at the waves, looking out to the rising sun. I sit a few yards behind him. He's been standing there for at least half an hour now.

The wind whips his hair around, his arms limp at his sides. His white t-shirt flies around his shoulders. The waves lap at his ankles, but he doesn't move, even though he still has his shoes on. He doesn't move.

The only thing that reminds me he's not a statue is his hands. His fingers clench, unclench, fumble, twitch, wrap around each other.

I know my parents are watching from the house window. Watching me watch Oriole who watches the sun rise. The sun, watching all of us humans on the ground. We make our stupid mistakes and take things for granted and either work too hard or not hard enough. We laugh and shout and cry and smile and cough and speak and whisper and breathe. But we are just humans. We're only one species in thousands, not even realizing our issues or actions have consequences. I wonder if something watches us, laughing at our mistakes, frowns at our tragedies.

Ill never know.

Watching my best friend like this is painful. He just stands there. He watches the sun lift into the sky, the waves crashing into the horizon until we can't make out what's farther anymore.

I don't know if he cries. I can't see it. I wish I knew so I could help him. But I don't dare go near him. I know he needs to be alone. So I just sit here, with him but not.

I look at the sand, the small grains. Millions, billions, trillions, zillions, in a bucketful. They coat the whole beach, the whole floor of the ocean.

Infinite.

I look back up at Orioles back. His head has moved. He looks down, and his shoulders shake slightly. His hands are fists, white knuckles, iron hard fingers.

I'm beside him before I know it. My shoes soak in the three inch deep water but I don't care. I look at him sideways. His face is contorted in pain and he shakes his head. His cheeks are soaked. I reach up and turn his face to me, wiping his tears with my hands. He looks at me with such sad eyes, it breaks my heart. I look at him sadly.

"I tried," he whispers hoarsely.

I nod. "I know."

He shakes his head. "She didn't make it."

"I know."

He looks out to the water. "I miss her."

I nod, he looks at me. "I know that you love her."

He takes a shaky breath and stares at me, I thread my fingers through his hair.

"Why?" He asks after a while.

"I don't know."

•••

We let him sit on the beach all day. When I went to go check up on him, I heard him talking. He was staring at the water. I know he was talking to Annie.

Inside the house, my mother sits in her room and my father paints. Caspian is reading his book in the living room. I sit at the piano and play some songs that Annie taught me on the old keyboards.

The white keys have been stained slightly brown with age, the surface touched so many times, it's smooth and glassy. I like the way the keys press down without any effort.

My fingers fly over the keyboards, hitting different patters of blacks, whites, minor chords mixed with majors.

At seven, there's a knock at the door.

I open it against the wind. It's Caleb.

Despite all the confusion, I fly into his arms as soon as I see his solemn expression. He pulls me up by the waist, pressing me right to him. I can't breathe, but I don't care. We stay there, in the doorway for who knows how long. All I know is my friend is here and I need him. I bury my face in his neck, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He slowly moves into the warmth of the house, but I don't move. He shuts the door and continues to hold me. Finally, I break from his grasp.

I look into his eyes and shake my head. He knows. Tears threaten to spill for the first time since her death.

He nods sadly and kisses my forehead as he passes into the living room to greet Caspian.

I glance out the kitchen window.

Oriole still sits there, unmoved. Even if he does come inside, I think he'll always be there. His spirit will never move from that spot in the beach. A faded image permanently pressed onto the view if that beach.

He will never be the same.

Oh gracious. i think I actually cried three times while writing this. First time cause it was so sad, second was because I realized how good a writer I was;) and third...I think I stubbed my toe...

R&R :) have any suggestions? Guesses on what's upcoming? Well you better, cause I ain't got no idea.