For the Photo from Yesterday's Entry

It's short. And sad. I mentioned Melancholy, did I not? I like the word 'melancholy'. It reminds me of a vegetable.
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Ian watched as the last of the sun sank into the Pacific. He admired the orange glow that separated the horizon from the sky. The young night's air was cool and crisp; Christmas would be cold this year. He walked slowly along the path that followed the cliff's edge. Looking up into the sky, he found the moon in its full, luminant splendor. As the night took hold, the stars began to shine bright as well. It was as if the fabric of the universe had been punched full of holes and the Big Man was holding a candle behind it. He found a bench at a lookout point and sat down. He stared motionless.

Memories of laughing, joyous occasions and sunny afternoons ran through Ian's head. All were pleasant memories, all were memories cherished. He didn't notice the tears streaming down his cheeks until a slight gust of wind chilled his already cold face. All this and so close to Christmas, too. He hated Christmas. This year, it would be even worse.

Anna had been gone for almost two weeks. She had traveled up north for a weekend stay at a Monterrey bed and breakfast with her friends. She was hit by a drunk driver her first night there. From what the witness reports said, she was probably dead before she hit the ground. At least she died without pain.

For almost an hour he sat. It was their spot. Once a week, they took a trip to watch the sunset. Once a week they would enjoy each other's company. Once a week they would cherish a day's passing. Now each day was just another, each sunset just a transition from day to night. If the days were words, they would be a series of run-on sentences.

"Ian." He turned around to see no one. Was it just his mind playing tricks on him?

He heard his name again, this time under the sounds of the breaking waves below him. It was just a trick, something he wanted to hear. Almost a longing.

Anna's voice was clearer when he heard his name one more time. Ian stood up to look over the cliff's edge. He saw nothing but the crashing waves.

"Anna?" he whispered. "Where are you?" He felt stupid, asking for someone who was no longer of this earth. "If you're here, please say something!"

Silence. Nothing but the crashing water below could be heard. The tears welled up once more in Ian's eyes. "Please! Is that you Anna?" The desperation in his voice spoke volumes. He began to cry softly. He put his head down on the rail.

The world was a mysterious place. Its mysteries were shrouded in more mysteries. Everything could be explained away but the affairs of the heart were infinitely more complicated. Coupled with that, the human spirit. Ian loved her more than life itself; she was his everything. She was gone and all he could do now was imagine her voice in the whispering wind and turbulent waters.

Determination and hope. They were but curses now.