Miles had felt pain before, but nothing like this.
Alaska's grave stuck out of the ground like an ugly thorn. A pair of decayed roses lay scattered about as if she had picked the petals herself and put them in any direction she saw fit. Shame, Miles thought. If she had spent more time on it, the petals would arrange an 'A'.
It hadn't been this quiet since the first time he had went to the one place that seemed a distant place now. The Smoking Hole was a smoldering ash in his memory, but to be fair, Miles hadn't stepped foot on Culver Creek in five years, so who knew what condition it was in. Hopefully better than Alaska's broken grave. He tried to forget the fact that this was not a new grave nor was it in mint condition when Alaska's father had bought it, but the many lines that displayed derogatory slurs and graffiti that disturbed her grave made it hard to focus on the good.
The box of cigarettes seemed to grow moist in his hand. He hadn't been able to get a rosé bottle due to the store closing down and the last bottle hidden in the woods was stolen by some kids. The only other thing he had to offer was a single, fresh, pure white daisy he had grown himself. He thought of the time Alaska had teased him for not having a green thumb after he had killed three houseplants he had bought home from a night out. Miles felt an overwhelming sense of pride at the crisp daisy in his hand. He could nearly imagine her smile. It was so close, so realistic, Miles closed his eyes. And when he opened them, Alaska Young herself was sitting on the grave in the dress she was buried in.
"God, Pudge, you grew that yourself?" she said, the tiniest hint of a laugh on the tip of her tongue. She sat on the cracked grave, leaning forward almost expectantly. "Of course I did," he answered almost defensively. She smiled in that same careless way he remembered and reached for the daisy, her cold hand brushing his warm one for a second before she jerked back. "Jeez, Pudge you're supposed to be my self control," she said with a quick roll of her melted caramel coloured eyes. Pudge sighed, longing to hug her. "I'm in college now. I'm in Nursing," he confessed.
A flash of something caught her eye, she swallowed something down and seemed to strangle out the words the had managed to convert. "That's great, Pudge," she strained. The excitement seemed to dwindle inside of Pudge. That always happened around Alaska. He could feel the conversation waning. He clenched the box tighter and averted his eyes. He was about to give Alaska her gift and leave when he felt her hand on his arm.
"Stay."
