The event changed everything, but a story can’t have a central theme unless there are walls to support it, roads that take you there and on, because I can’t just give you a fact and you understand it fully until I explain it. So here it is; I love Harry Styles, but the roads that I take you on to understand may not be one’s that you really want to travel, so heed the signs on the barren roadsides, and understand. I’ll tell you about the days, thirty before and thirty after, encompassing Harry’s attempted suicide.


67. 29 days after

29 Days After:  Heather tells us goodbye, but she leaves us with the Cinderella picture Amy Lee had kept by her bedside.  "But you should keep it!" I protest, and she shakes her head.  "She would want you to have it."  Sometime I'm not sure what Amy Lee really wanted, but I accept the picture, and I can see her fingerprints smudges on the glass. I wonder if she picked it up and studied it.  I wonder if she thought of us as much as we thought of her.  I wonder where she is now.  It would be too much to think of someone aw magnificent as her vanishing to nothingness, so I don't, and as Harry sleeps on my shoulder, I try to line my fingers to the smudges, try to imagine her holding the frame.  "Thank you," I tell the her picture, the girl in the pink dress who is smiling so wide that you can see she is missing a tooth. The girl who only lived eight years.  The girl whose last wish was not for herself, but for two men to live happily ever after with each other.  And I know that she has given me what I wanted more than anything.  

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