The visit

  The building has crumpled like a white piece of paper left in the dumpster for decades. Irrecognizable. God only knows if something happened here in all these years.

I stood staring at the remnants for sometime before laying my eyes on the stone henge which bore the names of the alumni who died long ago. There's her name too. On the topmost left corner. The first. The one. It's strange.

While I'm only 36, I try to fight the urge to know how could she die at the age of 34 only.

Died in a hunting voyage. A hunter. Sounds so cool.

"Talk like a bad boy, bunny"
She used to say that often when I said something so cheesy she didn't have to fight the urge to meltdown on that. She loved Nate from 'One Of Us Is Lying'.

"It's real." I suddenly realize actually that its real. The voice. I look beside myself to find her standing formally like we are in a funeral set and, strangely, as transparent as the mist. She looks young like the woman in their 30s and is gorgeous, just as i had imagined her.
Then she points to a place on the cobblestone and i strain my eyes and move closer to read what was written there, below the picture-
Talk like a bad boy, bunny.

I was stunned and when I looked back to see her, she was gone.
Gone like that Sunday morning. Gone like the good times. Gone like the relief after the storm.