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This story contains sensitive themes that may be triggering

“The rain is usually gone by now,” Megumi said, twisted on the couch to peer out the window. “You’re not really going to go out in this, right?”

Harper shrugged, tugging at the laces of her boots. “I’ll be back later.”

“It’s just one day. It’s miserable out. Stay in, who’s going to know?”

Harper snaked her finger along her wrist, under the cuff of her jacket, to pull the sleeve of her bunched-up sweater free. Megumi’s face softened from teasing to solicitude and they sighed, turning one corner of their mouth up into a smile even as their eyebrows knit together.

Harper traced the familiar path down the block, past the five-way intersection, and cut through the park to save time. The drizzle quickened into rain and then cut back to a sprinkle; by the time Harper reached the flower shop her hair was damp.

By the time she reached the bridge the rain had stopped. Harper took a moment to grasp the railing and looked out over the dark water of the river. Then she tapped her fingers against the stone and walked over to the shrine.

It wasn’t much of a memorial anymore; their other friends had stopped coming once winter came and the temperatures dropped and time weathered the sharpness of their grief. The sign with the phone number had been permanently fixed, but the flowers and candles had dwindled down to only what Harper brought. Someone had kicked one of the remaining candle holders; Harper used the side of her boot to sweep the shards of glass onto a piece of paper that she tossed in the trash before squatting down and placing the two daffodils she’d bought against a baluster.

“Hey, Nick,” she said. She rocked back and forth slowly on her heels. “Not much to tell you since yesterday. Megumi made pasta. The weather is supposed to clear up soon, it’ll be nice to get to see some sun again.” She paused, then sighed. “I brought you some daffodils. They always remind me of Gene Wilder biting into one. Sometimes I wonder how and why some memories just stick around. Did that ever happen for you? Just an image that stuck in your head, even years later?

“I miss you. I wish you were here. I wish you could come watch me get married, come celebrate with us. I’m sorry I missed it. I wish you’d felt safe enough to tell me. I know Megumi’s right; I know if you were here you’d be telling me not to waste my time coming out every day.”

She watched a man in a boat row for a while, shifting her weight back and forth. “I know what your note said. I know you wouldn’t want this for me. But I can’t just forget. I don’t know how, Nick. I don’t know how to let you go.”