I was in mourning for several weeks after his funeral.
Pacing up and down, refusing to eat, to talk, to communicate with anybody.
I removed all traces of his memory, hoping for it to just fade away - but it never did.
A month passed - one long, painful month. I had locked myself in the house for the entire time. Hardly eaten anything. Hardly spoken to anyone. I decided to go outside.
It was January, and out side was bitterly cold. I stepped outside for a brief moment, before escaping back to the confines of the house once more.
I dug out the scarf - the one he gave me, the one I had locked away ever since his death - and I wrapped it around my neck, replicating the way he had wrapped it on that fateful day.
It wasn't the same.
The back garden seemed warmer. It was quite small, and at the far end was one lonely bench standing, just there, all alone.
I sat on it. It was cold.
I began to cry.And then I stopped.
I almost felt something next to me. Sort of like... a spirit.
Antonio.
I heard a child's laughter.
Antonio looked at me with sad eyes, and I realised that he was now with his family.
He was happy.
For the first time in a long time, I felt... content.
Antonio was finally truly happy.
All this time, he had covered his pain with that gorgeous smile. That wonderful smile.
But this time he wasn't hiding the pain anymore.
He smiled at me one last time - and through tears, I smiled back.
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