(Story :)) Summertime. I’ve hated it ever since Max passed away. Something I haven’t gotten over, even though it’s been two years. Grief is something that never goes away; it slowly fades, but it doesn’t disappear. I wish it was like love. Love comes, then goes when it needs to. Grief sticks with you, like the ink in a tattoo. I remember it all so clearly. The day it happened. Max was at the beach with his brother, Toby. I met them there alone since Sam hates goodbyes. I climbed over the fence, my towel over my shoulder. Weak. That’s the first word I thought of when I saw Max. He was just a skeleton with skin hanging on him. Sickly pale. His hair was gone. A lump formed in my throat. Toby stared at his brother, tears running down his cheeks. “Jackie,” Max forced a smile. “You were a good friend.” “Thank you.” The whole ocean wanted to spill from my eyes. I couldn’t let Max see me cry. That would only make things worse. I wish I could’ve said ‘I hope you get better!’ But this is a goodbye. He won’t ever get better. Everything happens for a reason. But I don’t know what the reason was for this.
