The morning brought rain.
Not the torrents of winter rain so typical of Syracuse, but a fine drizzle. The day moved on, growing greyer, and so, it seemed, did Gabriel’s mood. Though Ashley made hourly attempts to coax him away from the stone he’d made his lakeside perch, he wouldn’t move.
All she could do was stand by and watch. And watch and watch, helpless to prevent his fall. Surely dying was like this, she reasoned; losing precious moments and being unable to prevent their passing.
Yes; this was a kind of death.
The worst.
It was well into the last hour of Sunday, the moon scudding across the sky towards midnight, when Gabriel came in from the cold and unburdened himself.
Ashley was in the kitchen, readying a couple of mugs when he called through.
“You said you wanted to listen?” he mumbled, looking at the floor.
“Only if you wanted to talk,” she said, joining him cross-legged on the floor.
“I want to, I guess.”
He didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Just sat there, chin resting on his knees, watching the secret dance of the fire drawing to a close.
“I miss him you know...”
He was crying now, or trying very hard not to.
“I miss him so much.”
Ashley slipped her arm around him, drawing him into a gentle embrace.
“It’s not fair...”
“No, it never is.”
“Why though? What did he do? He was only a child... Three...” Gabriel swallowed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Why didn’t I die? Why? WHY?”
“Gabe, don’t talk like that, please.” Ashley reached out to touch him, to soothe him, but her fingers fell hesitantly short.