A Collection of Very Short Stories

Next to the Cemetery Wall, I Sat and Listened

I see him every night comes to visit her. Sometimes he brings flowers with him. He chats with her for hours, tells her about his day. Complain to her about his hardships and agony. Weep in front of her then leaves.

That is how real love is.

I live near the cemetery, I saw the day when they brought her to lay beneath the ground for entirety. He came with her with a straight face, he wasn't crying but held his head high and smiling for people who offered their condolences to him. I even thought he was glad she is out of his life. However, I was proven wrong. Since the second day of her burial, he has been there in the cemetery. Daily visiting her. Never left her side. I hear him telling her his day by the boring details.

She is dead.

She is not hearing him.

However, I do.

I have heard almost all of his daily reports. I lived each moment with him, I wept with him in his stressed days. I know many stories about his life, he has confined it to me himself. I think he has never noticed me. Everytime he comes by, I bring me a chair to the back yard next to the wall and listen attentively to his stories. She never listens to him, I was the only one who was listening, I really wanted to tell him that. She cannot love him anymore, but I love him.

This is the first time I see him out of the cemetery. He is buying coffee. I'm going to talk to him. It is my only chance.