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Description
     There was a guy sitting on a park bench…he's been there every day since September. Rain or shine or snow or hail…he's always here. I know for sure 'cause I'm here too.
     Every day I arrive at the park shortly after 2:30. I venture up the large oak at the edge of the woods encircling the park. Here, in my leafy hangout, I can finally relax, finally breath. The shade provided by the branches is such a relief from the blistering July sun, the slight breeze a soft, comforting kiss from a lost friend…
     "Hey."
     I jump, I fall, and I land oh so gracefully on my ass. When I look up to see who has caused my future bruised bum, I froze. It's him. "Are you okay?" He laughed, but his question was sincere, his hand extended. I took his hand, let him help me up. "Sorry 'bout that," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."
     I accepted the apology, but honestly it wasn't really needed. It's not his fault I'm a total klutz. It is re-assuring though, to know that some people still have manners. Most people would've just made some snide comment, laughed, and left me humiliated. People enjoy being hurtful far too much.
     "So what's your name?" My mystery man pulled me out of my thoughts.
     "Oh Autumn. Sorry I was having a brain tangent."
     He laughed, "S'all good. Mind if I join you in your tree?"
     "Not at all," I smiled.
     And that was that. Me and my mystery man began hanging out daily, as opposed to sitting alone in an empty park…not that we didn't go to the park every day, we just weren't alone anymore I mean. We had each other now which was cool.
     I soon found out that his name was Michael, his natural hair color was blonde as opposed to the natural jet black locks he wore so well, and his favorite color was purple. He didn't like seafood and he played the drums and he HATED his mom. I never quite understood why he disliked her so much, she was a nice lady, but I suppose you can't help who you do and don't get along with.
     Michael and I talked about everything. Even the stupid pointless stuff like how to fend off a zombie apocalypse. But we talked about the serious stuff too…which is a big deal for me. I never talked to anyone about anything, but I could talk to Michael. I trusted him and he trusted me.
     It was like we were made for each other, no lie. Its crazy cliché sounding but we just connected. We didn't always agree, 'cause that's impossible, but we always talked things out and compromised…or we'd have a rubber-band-gun shootout. But hey, whatever works, right?
That was the best summer of my life…but all good, or seemingly perfect in my case, things must end. And it did.
     I remember the phone call. Michael had been walking home from my house. It was dark. I had begged him to let me walk with him but he insisted I stay in my toasty house, and I couldn't say no to his smile…that was the last time I saw that gorgeous smile.
     He was almost on his road, not more than three minutes away from home, when he got hit. It was a drunk driver, a hit and run. No one to call for help…Michael could barely speak when he called me. I stayed on the phone, ran to my parent's car, but I was too late. I arrived just in time to here Michael choke a last "I love you" around the blood pooling in his lungs.
     I was still sitting there holding him in my arms when the paramedics finally arrived. I couldn't let go…couldn't believe it really happened…couldn't believe he was really gone…but they took him from me. They pried him from my arms and no matter how much I punched and kicked and screamed they wouldn't let me go back to him.
     I didn't go to the wake…or the funeral…my parents tried to understand, but they never could. His parents tried to tell me they hurt like I did, that they could help. I didn't believe them, I didn't want help.
     I stopped talking to everyone. I stopped trying in school. I stopped eating…eventually my parents threatened me with a hospital visit so I ate enough to survive…but it wasn't worth it. Nothing was. I had lost the love of my life and, for the second time, my best friend.
     I can't ever love like that again, can't feel alright again…I can't feel alive again. I'm breathing, but I'm not living…Its been a year now. The three hundred and sixty five days I've spent without Michael have proved one thing, there's nothing left for me here. So I'm leaving.
     I'm sitting here now, under the tree where Michael and I first met, under the tree where Sarah had hung herself…it's here I drink my poison. A cocktail of Aspirin and Southern Comfort. As my body goes numb and my vision starts to blur I finally feel relief. And with, what I know as my last breath, I whispered, "I love you too Michael."

Description
     There was a guy sitting on a park bench…he's been there every day since September. Rain or shine or snow or hail…he's always here. I know for sure 'cause I'm here too.
     Every day I arrive at the park shortly after 2:30. I venture up the large oak at the edge of the woods encircling the park. Here, in my leafy hangout, I can finally relax, finally breath. The shade provided by the branches is such a relief from the blistering July sun, the slight breeze a soft, comforting kiss from a lost friend…
     "Hey."
     I jump, I fall, and I land oh so gracefully on my ass. When I look up to see who has caused my future bruised bum, I froze. It's him. "Are you okay?" He laughed, but his question was sincere, his hand extended. I took his hand, let him help me up. "Sorry 'bout that," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."
     I accepted the apology, but honestly it wasn't really needed. It's not his fault I'm a total klutz. It is re-assuring though, to know that some people still have manners. Most people would've just made some snide comment, laughed, and left me humiliated. People enjoy being hurtful far too much.
     "So what's your name?" My mystery man pulled me out of my thoughts.
     "Oh Autumn. Sorry I was having a brain tangent."
     He laughed, "S'all good. Mind if I join you in your tree?"
     "Not at all," I smiled.
     And that was that. Me and my mystery man began hanging out daily, as opposed to sitting alone in an empty park…not that we didn't go to the park every day, we just weren't alone anymore I mean. We had each other now which was cool.
     I soon found out that his name was Michael, his natural hair color was blonde as opposed to the natural jet black locks he wore so well, and his favorite color was purple. He didn't like seafood and he played the drums and he HATED his mom. I never quite understood why he disliked her so much, she was a nice lady, but I suppose you can't help who you do and don't get along with.
     Michael and I talked about everything. Even the stupid pointless stuff like how to fend off a zombie apocalypse. But we talked about the serious stuff too…which is a big deal for me. I never talked to anyone about anything, but I could talk to Michael. I trusted him and he trusted me.
     It was like we were made for each other, no lie. Its crazy cliché sounding but we just connected. We didn't always agree, 'cause that's impossible, but we always talked things out and compromised…or we'd have a rubber-band-gun shootout. But hey, whatever works, right?
That was the best summer of my life…but all good, or seemingly perfect in my case, things must end. And it did.
     I remember the phone call. Michael had been walking home from my house. It was dark. I had begged him to let me walk with him but he insisted I stay in my toasty house, and I couldn't say no to his smile…that was the last time I saw that gorgeous smile.
     He was almost on his road, not more than three minutes away from home, when he got hit. It was a drunk driver, a hit and run. No one to call for help…Michael could barely speak when he called me. I stayed on the phone, ran to my parent's car, but I was too late. I arrived just in time to here Michael choke a last "I love you" around the blood pooling in his lungs.
     I was still sitting there holding him in my arms when the paramedics finally arrived. I couldn't let go…couldn't believe it really happened…couldn't believe he was really gone…but they took him from me. They pried him from my arms and no matter how much I punched and kicked and screamed they wouldn't let me go back to him.
     I didn't go to the wake…or the funeral…my parents tried to understand, but they never could. His parents tried to tell me they hurt like I did, that they could help. I didn't believe them, I didn't want help.
     I stopped talking to everyone. I stopped trying in school. I stopped eating…eventually my parents threatened me with a hospital visit so I ate enough to survive…but it wasn't worth it. Nothing was. I had lost the love of my life and, for the second time, my best friend.
     I can't ever love like that again, can't feel alright again…I can't feel alive again. I'm breathing, but I'm not living…Its been a year now. The three hundred and sixty five days I've spent without Michael have proved one thing, there's nothing left for me here. So I'm leaving.
     I'm sitting here now, under the tree where Michael and I first met, under the tree where Sarah had hung herself…it's here I drink my poison. A cocktail of Aspirin and Southern Comfort. As my body goes numb and my vision starts to blur I finally feel relief. And with, what I know as my last breath, I whispered, "I love you too Michael."