A Memory
"Here lies he, who learnt to love and live"
Lily's coal-black eyes met the words carved on the grave. Tears escaped with summer wind before it dripped out.
The funeral seemed as calm as his death. But still, there were haunting murmurs from both his admirers and rivals.
Lily stood up to leave the crowd and walked towards the two-fold mansion. Each step she took dragged her to the cauldrons of memories. The more she resisted the gush, the more violently it seized her.
His boundless laughter still echoed in her ears like lost music and that fountain pen with golden nib he always carried in his breast pocket never failed to write for her, and write about her. Though she never succeeded to grasp the full depth of his lines, the intensity of his choice of words, she always enjoyed the...