SALT AND PEPPER covered the grass on Sunday. Today it’s Sunday, a year later. I always hated working on Sundays. Not because I was religious, no it was nothing like that. I just hated working on Sundays and I've always hated Sundays ever since a teen because on Sundays all I wanted to do was sleep till Monday rolled around but no I had to go work in my stuffy office. My hate only increased with each passing week. Though working on Sundays wasn’t that bad, no it wasn’t. Not when you had a girlfriend to come home too. Yep she made me like Sundays and then hate them again.

Now every time when I walk home from work on Sunday for some reason I always get home wet. Though today's a special Sunday, yes it really is. When I reach into my pocket my fingers brush against something cool and hard. I remember that day I gave my girlfriend a fake ring. She was so happy even though I knew, she knew it wasn't real. She was that kinda person an optimist to my pessimist. I actually hated her at first but began to crave her stupid but breath taking smile. I think I really hated her because to trap me she didn’t have to say anything. When we moved in together we would fight. Who didn’t? Though that was okay because when I woke up I could embrace her, knowing I didn’t have to let go and I wouldn’t.

Wasn’t it Sunday when I gave her the fake ring? My feet echo on the cement, like a little kids skipping with glee but I felt no glee. I place the metal circle on the granite. See I always said I’d get you a real ring, it’s just really late. I also remember that day, it just won’t go away. That day salt and pepper covered the grass.

I was coming home from work on Sunday and I heard the loudest crackle, like I was out camping. I ran knowing deep in my heart that today I was going to pray to God. When I got to my house the warm colored phoenix flapped his wings. I ran inside, what was I thinking? I can’t recall. I saw you though and you saw I. You waved your hand at me and smiled. For some reason the fake ring on your hand glowed brighter than the flames. Everything came crumbling after that. My body was restrained and I remember seeing the ash and the first snow mix that day.

My hands slowly go over the granite, feeling your name but I can never feel you again. A drop of water hits the granite. There it goes I’m wet again.