July 18, 2010
By Anonymous

brown hair. big brown eyes. a gentle smile. features i had known so well. eyes i had looked into and smiled. lips that had spoken jokes i didn't remember any longer. micheal.
i had dreamed about him enough times that it didn't really seem like a big deal. but when i woke up on that saturday morning i didn't think much about it. but it stuck with me for the rest of that day, unlike all the other dreams. it wasn't until after a long day of nothing that i realized why it had been so important.
i hadn't dreamed about his face as the young 8th grader i knew. no, it was almost as if i was looking at those missing pictures where they aged the kid several years. i hadn't dreamed of his 13 year old face but of how he would look as a 16 year old, a true teenager.
it was then that i decided it was time for us to chat. but unlike our other talks which were all online in a long series of emails, this chat would have to take place on the phone. i needed to hear his voice, i had forgotten what it sounded like.
however, being the procrastinator that i was, i didn't call him. i didn't even try and find his phone number. i figured he would still be there the next morning. i fell asleep thinking about the great conversation we would have the next day; of all the jokes and stories he would tell; of how i would tell him that i missed him and that we needed to talk more often. i dreamt not of his face that night, like i had the night before, but of the nonexistant pauses in our conversation. i dreamt that we would pick right up where we had left off back in the eighth grade. i dreamt that i would be able to talk to my best friend again.
the next morning i woke to the sound of my name being called by my mother. it was off though, instead of the normal agitation coloring my mother's voice, it had a soft almost calming quality to it. it was a nice change. when i opened my eyes, i found that she wasn't the only one in my room that morning. my dad was standing at the end of my bed with a solemn expression painted onto his typically smiling face. my sister was there too, looking just about as confused as i felt at our early morning pow wow.
as i sat up in bed i knew something was wrong, not that it took a genius to figure that one out. and then, with three simple words my world came crashing down: "honey, micheal died."

The author's comments:
this story was based on something that happened to me not too long ago. not everything that i wrote about was happened, but it did have a basis in reality.

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