In Memory of Our Friends

From noon, it had been five hours already, and Jackson and his two companions were drenched in sweat as they gathered in front of the home.

"Did you find anything to eat?" Alicia asked.

Jackson and May shook their heads in response to her question.

"Well, since the sun isn't scorching us anymore, come with me," Alicia said, glancing at the sky, thinking for a moment, and then she started walking ahead, with Jackson and May following.

"Where are we going?" Jackson asked May beside him.

"To the tombstones," May replied, with an unusual seriousness that left Jackson a bit puzzled.

Tombstones?

***

There were no garbage heaps here, only a rare sight of a blue sky. The red sunset within the clouds gave the sky some color, breaking the monotony.

There was a notebook on the ground, thicker than a dictionary. Although the wind had scattered its pages in disarray, luckily, every page of this notebook was inscribed with:

"In memory of our friends."

"...How did these people die?" Jackson asked.

"They died of illness, starvation, and violence," May helped Alicia answer.

At that moment, Alicia stood there quietly, gazing at the notebook, silently, silently...

Silently, she cried.

Jackson glanced at May; she was also standing there silently, her gaze now even more solemn than before. She didn't shed tears, but she was willing to stand by, accompanying the friends who might still be with them, even though they were gone. Perhaps that's why, even when she wore a serious expression, she maintained that smile that drew people near.

Jackson looked back at Alicia; she seemed to be holding back her emotions, so her tears only flowed intermittently.

Out of courtesy, Jackson didn't dare to console them. He knew very well that this place was not only the graveyard of their friends but also the place where they vented their frustrations over the years.

So, he stood there with them; it was the only thing he could do.