Yellow Sundress

“Please.”

I raise my head.

“I beg you.”

I stare into her eyes, searching, seeking.

“Won’t you come back?”

The biting cold of the morning air snakes down my throat, and my voice catches a bit.

“Don’t you remember? All those darned memories. All those fun times we had, all those times? I know you don’t want to, I know you want to. I know you’re trying to push me away, I know that, I know. But I also see it, feel it. You remember those times.”

I gaze hopefully, longingly.

“I remember those times. When we used to spend whole days in that park, in those hot summer days. It was a little run-down, behind the old fabric and a little out of place in that dusty square. It was a little old and not very nice to look at, but to me it was our home. I would push you on the swings endlessly, as you told me about your dreams, your wishes, your loves, your pains, your joys, your everything. I knew you, then. I know you now. I know you see it, them, those summer days. The ice cream, the popsicles, or the lollipops. You liked those purple popsicles most. You’d always get yelled at, remember? Yeah, you’d get yelled at because your mouth would turn all purple. Other times you’d really be punished, because you put purple stains on your yellow sundress. I loved that sundress, you know. Do you remember that sundress?”

I smile.

“When we ran across the tall grass fields, you were this bright yellow speck in the distance. You’re way faster than me, you’d say. But really, you must have known I let you run around and win all the time. And then I’d gaze at you from afar, as you dashed around the field, all bright yellow from your hair to your shoes. You had yellow shoes too, but then you stopped wearing them, because they’d get really dirty from running around in muddy soil.... Please.”

I take a step forward, carefully, fearfully. My hand rises, reaching out toward you.

“Please, don’t leave me.”

I plead with my eyes, my hand, my being.

“Do you remember, then, that one time? That one time, I’m sure you remember. You must remember. It was white everywhere, all white. I chased you around, and we tumbled and fell. Then we spread our arms and legs wide, and reached out to the furthest we could, all around us. You told me we were angels, like this. And I didn’t see it, couldn’t see anything but you as an angel. Not me, never. But then you stood up, held out your hand and pulled me up. You turned me around and pointed: ‘Look,’ you said. ‘we’re angels.’ And I looked and you were right. You turned to me, clasped both your gloved hands around my face and softly touched your lips to mine, and entwined our souls together.”

I take another step forward, emboldened, fearful.

“Please, don’t leave me. Don’t jump.”

I take one more step, then I rush forward with all my being, all my love, both my hands raised forward to grasp...

And I hit the railing, my fingers clutching at nothing but droplets. And my arms are soaked, and so is the rest of my black suit, darkened further. And I look around, but all that greets me is a sea of black umbrellas.