The funeral was still going on. No one talked to Amaya, except for Harry. Some were probably scared of her. Some were just not ready for another disappointment yet.
Harry continued to hold Amaya’s hand.
Amaya couldn’t ignore how Harry’s hand felt.
So empty and so….thin. It was almost like she was holding her own hand. But in a way, Amaya loved it. It was special.
Well at least to her.
Harry told Amaya jokes, leading to Amaya laughing and Harry’s cute dimple showing.
Amaya couldn’t tell her any of her jokes, because Harry had all the same jokes as her.
Amaya didn’t care. Harry told the joke better anyways.
They were the laugh at the funeral.
People stared at Amaya as if she needed a exorcism. Amaya started hearing whispers of people calling her freak, psycho, attention seeker, mental. What annoyed Amaya was that, those whispers were so loud. It was like they were whispering them right into her ear.
YOU ARE READING
The Funeral
Short StoryThat day, she met Him. That day, he left her. That day, everyone mourned over two deaths.
