kulupu wi wawa unu

They were in front of the station. The clouds had parted, and the pale blue of the sky attempted to turn into a soft pink near the sun. "This place... is where she died.
-Scarlatine... died ?
-Yes. She came here to die alone.
-She died...
-This place is a place of death. She was ill, and she knew it."

Rosemary overlooked the valley. The dense mesh of black pipes had collapsed, now a cold and still array of metallic chaos. Snow was starting to pile up on it. She inhaled sharply, then stopped. The sting of winter was flaring up in her nose, and her throat was starting to tense up. Then, slowly, she exaled, watching the pale cloud of her breath in the cold rise up, lit up from behind with a golden glow.

"She... knew it.
-This place is a place of death, repeated Rosemary.
-Where things come to loose themselves.
-What... illness did she have ?
-Feline infectious peritonitis."

Rosemary felt the heat draw from her body. She felt empty inside, the life drained out of her. "She suffered a lot, hasn't she ?
-This is... This isn't fair..."

But, the tears refused to flow. She could feel a headless anger well up within her. "This isn't fair ! She just... she just wanted to live. But she couldn't. She was not allowed to, and was only able to play too few rounds of a game rigged against her..." She gripped the handrail, her hands shaking. In her chest, she felt a large pit, one that swallowed her whole. "It's not fair ! Why couldn't she live ! Why !"

She collapsed on the guardrail. She realized she had been screaming, but felt no remorse for it. Then, a warm hand on her own. "It's not fair, but no one could have done anything of it. She died. You did all you could." Now, the tears were starting to flow. "If it makes you feel better, she was thinking of you before she died. She came here so you didn't have to see her suffer."

This was a measly comfort. Thyme knelt down besides Rosemary and enveloped her in an embrace. "You're not to blame here. No one is."

Rosemary held her tighter, letting the tears flow silently, her throat hurting. "And... and me."

>outremer bureau : 9-11