The candles flicker silently and light his face in shadow. At this point, he was still so bright and excited and alive. Now all that's left is his desk that no longer holds his pictures or his scribbles or his books. She just wants that back. Everyone had known something was wrong, there must have been something wrong, why didn't she just ask? She could've asked, it's what friends do, but they weren't ever really friends. He just listened to her talk. He told her there was hope, for everyone. He told her she could go places and be something and live. He told her that she belonged somewhere, that he believed in her. She didn't want to be stuck here like her mother. He told her she didn't have to be.

She kneels down close to the candles and stares at them. Are these candles all that's left? They dance like his eyes used to. He seemed okay at first. Forlorn and angry, yes, but he was okay. His skin still had that flush of color, his eyes still had that intensity of life, his smile still had that thrill of adventure. He could still take on the world. But time passed, as it always does. As his anger faded, he grew frail. Faint. He swayed of uneasiness where once there was grace. He lost the focus that he had once instilled. He spoke with pain rather than zeal. This was not the man she knew, the one she looked up to. They all worried and searched for answers. The catalyst was when finally, he just gave out. She remembers the screams of the others and her rust to phone 911. And she still sees him lying cold and silent on the stretcher. Looking at him, she couldn't remember the strong, large man who lit up the halls. All she saw was how small he looked. Skin and bones. They took him away. The next day, an announcement blared amongst the whispers. They said he wasn't well, that he was in trouble. They said that he pushed himself too far, pushed too much. They said with “great displeasure” that he would not be returning, he was too sick. He needed treatment.

A few, short weeks later, the news came that he was gone. She would never hear his encouragement again, his speeches to them that instilled hope, his laugh that brightened all of their days. The auditorium filled with silence at the memorial where they all spoke with no knowledge and she sat and screamed for the truth, that he was all that lived in this godforsaken town, that he was a beacon of light for all misguided souls, that he changed her and gave her everything like hope and love and kindness. He taught her to stretch her boundaries and take chances, to let the future bring what it brings, to always let love conquer all (and she remembered the looks of adoration in his eyes as he looked at those pictures and she realized love was real). Where was the speech that said he went out of his way for all of them, the one that said he once bought them all lunch when he learned that someone couldn't afford it or the one that said he danced with her so she wouldn't feel alone or that one that said that they were his everything? What about the one that said this wasn't fair? Why him? Why this way? He still had a world to change because that's what he could do.

She remembers the look in his eyes when he stared at their photos, of all of them, of his life at home. No matter what life threw his way, he always found the happiness in it. Where was the speech that said that?

Everything feels so unfinished. She can't race to his room to tell him news, or cry, or laugh. She'll never be able to tell him that he had saved her. It's just over, in a blink.

She wants to hate him for not trying harder but she knows that he'd given all he had. What you have isn't always enough.

She stares at the only thing left, his picture and the candles and the stone with his name. He's just another victim, but to her he was everything that was right with the world.

Looking at the letter in her hands, she feels foolish thinking he'll know. But he knew everything, so maybe the letter was pointless in the first place. She sets it down anyway and holds her rose. What use is a flower anyway? She takes that rose and sets it aflame. She watches as it burns like the candles as its soul curls into the sky. Maybe it'll reach him. Maybe he'll see. She lets it burn on his stone and she doesn't care that she's crying. This is over and he's not coming back and she's on her own like never before.

She lets her rose die like he did and walks away from everything else.