• I've lived many places throughout my life. Houses had become disposable, as lifeless as a severed piece of tissue paper. Without the functional use, of course; tissue paper had actually served out its purpose for me.

    My family was as nomadic in the physical sense as the rat's wheel in my head was. I never bothered, nor cared to become accustomed to my surroundings. Not until Applewood Terrace, that is, the only place I had truly called home.

    Sunny, as I had called her, happened to shine light to what had become a very dull, dismal place - my mind. The monotony had begun to settle in over time, like gray-scale shading forming sedimentary rock on the outskirts of my skull. I was solemnly consumed by a sense of numbing throughout my waking days as if I had been enjoying a deep slumber.

    Sunny was every contradiction I had ever yearned for. Subconsciously, of course. I would never toss hope around like a lasso searching aimlessly for imaginary livestock. If I could even get my hands on a lasso.

    Her birth name was Stacy Anne Smith. People told her nearly every day it was her real name, that she should cherish it - but what is real? Those three words of utter simplicity had the audacity to shield such beauty from reaching full potential. Those three words had stricken her very existence; how I had come to hate them. That hate was "real," if I had ever come close to experiencing reality.

    She was every bit exotic - from her hair follicles on top her head to her bare feet which refused to be caged by sneakers. Her honey-tinted strands of hair that made a silhouette against the pale, open pit of a sky. Beyond anything I could have fathomed in my unconscious state. I had often seen my reflection in her vivid emerald eyes, submerged right beneath the surface, not struggling to come afloat. Lost, not wanting to be found. The scent that had ruled over me fiercer than any dictatorship - a natural element that had become a necessity to my intake. It was mine. All mine, not that I had ever claimed it. Our silence together had said more than our mouths could ever procure. To claim such an entity had roused a humor deep inside of me that I had long since believed vacated me.

    Now I wish more than ever I had made a claim. The absence of a few simple words had now mocked my very existence.

    I had spent nearly every waking moment with my Sunny. Whether because nobody had braved up enough courage to embrace our minds or because we were propelled to one another without free will, I don't know. I suppose if fate had truly existed, she would fit the description with ease. I regret not contemplating simple questions that had now seemed so intricate.

    Our bare feet would sink into the soil and we could feel the life surging through our every muscle like static electricity. We would run for days, sometimes - her silk dress ruffling in the wind like a rag doll. Those fields which had gone on for miles without change had suddenly become so alluring to me with her around. To think that I walked past them and missed the potential beauty. To think of a life of oblivion without the girl who had changed my perspective - of not only the fields that had surrounded our town, but of the very thread my thoughts were woven to. No, such a thought had never once registered in my mind. Not then, not now, not ever.

    It's been months now since the day she left. I've rehearsed the day in my head, reciting it back to myself like a parent reassures a toddler. Sunny was in a deep slumber, not coming back. She was asleep, peaceful, in a better place...

    I knew the truth. There was not a better place, anywhere, than with us together. Puzzle pieces that didn't belong to any puzzle. No grand picture - just us.

    I still visit the rampant river that lie just beyond the fields every day. I would study the melodic movement of the water, watching the ripples fool my eyes. It had all looked so peaceful. There was no trace of tragedy, no remnant of a struggle. No, this cycle was a mastermind - a criminal that had stolen from me, without a trace of shame. No despair. My hands would clench into sweaty fists every time I came near.

    They buried her in a black casket. A prisoner. She was caged in a man-made casing that had been deemed peaceful to "them." We had known better.

    She was dressed in a black satin dress with a high collar that would have choked her of any phrase that would have surely kept me entranced. That is, if she could manage to mutter a sound at all. Her lips were blanketed in a heavy layer of burgundy lipstick, sealing those potential words with such finalization, as if the color were a ribbon tied in an intricate bow upon a lump sum of coal. Those lips didn't fool me. They should have used caution tape for all it had mattered.

    The appearance of her in that unimportant box had not tainted my memories, for they were much more than a mere memory. This dull vision had been corroded just like the life I had lived before I laid eyes on her.

    Oh, but today is an exceptionally beautiful day. The sky seems almost welcoming, the feathery clouds passing overhead like a slow-moving projection reel. I stand at the river bank, situated perfectly in the shade the trees provide for me. I look down upon the churning water, for the first time without any resentment. It glistens underneath the sun that greets it, almost like shaking hands with a distant friend. The murky pool of water,whose river bottom was never quite tangible,is suddenly within reach, or so it seems. Clarity, if even by my own trickery, at long last.

    I raise my arms in the air, bombarded by the wind that sifts through the fabric of my shirt, cleansing me. Without hesitation I lift the heels of my feet off the soil from beneath me, refusing to be accommodating to the balance that had suddenly seemed deficient within my toes.

    Sunny came home at last.