Amaya stopped looking forward to her first beer when her grandpa died from drinking to much and died a drunk.
Amaya even stopped looking forward to her first smoke, knowing that's what killed her godmother.
“So um- how did she- ya know- past away?” Harry asked Amaya
“Cancer.” Amaya leaned her head against the window, hoping that her useless answer would drive Harry away, so maybe her urge to want to actually talk to him would go away along with him.
“If you don’t mind me asking. What kind of cancer?” Harry kept talking. Didn’t he see that she didn’t want to talk?
“Lung cancer.” Amaya looked at Harry boldly.
Harry looked away from Amaya as if he was a about to break. “My best friend died from lung cancer too. He just wouldn’t stop smoking.”
Amaya didn’t know if he knew that he meant to say that out loud but she didn’t care. She grabbed his hand and held it tight.
His hands felt so thin.
YOU ARE READING
The Funeral
Short StoryThat day, she met Him. That day, he left her. That day, everyone mourned over two deaths.
