'Where are you?' I asked, desperate to find you once again. 'I am here, you are here. I'll always be here' you said. You are so beautiful, my dearest Christine. Your long dark hair always rested on your shoulder, and it always was so soft. Maybe I should have told you this. Maybe not, maybe it’s better that I didn’t. I loved you, and despised you like the hairdresser. You never went to the hairdresser. But the hairdresser loved your long lashes, and the way it stayed in place, always. But he also wanted to touch it, your soft and long locks of dark fairy wool. You always took your own scissors if you thought your hair was too long. You took them and cut away all the things you no longer liked about your hair. Maybe I should have told you. Maybe if I had none of this would have happened. And no one can say it’s for the best that it happened. It’s just not possible.

‘Hannah,’ you said to me, ‘How do we know what is here. I am here. I am always here. Even if I change, and my location changes, I am always here, aren’t I? It’s the here that changes, it’s everywhere. I am always everywhere. I am always with you, Hannah.’ I loved the way you pronounced your R’s. They sounded like there was a purring kitty lying on your tongue. I wished my name had an R in it. Maybe I could hear your purring more often then.

I always believed that there was more than one way to love someone. ‘Do you love me, Hannah, do you?’ you asked, you always asked questions I could never answer, but it never mattered either. ‘I believe there are many ways to love someone, Christine, many ways.’ We always liked saying each other’s names. Hannah. I will never hear anyone say it like you did. ‘I could love you like a sister, unconditionally, yet so vague and glimmering. If I loved you like a sister, there wouldn’t be a thing I wouldn’t do for you.’ You nodded. ‘I could also love you like a lover, heavily but hasty, forgiveable but unforgettable.’ I could tell you so many ways I could love you. You just stared at me with your sea green eyes. I continued. ‘I could love you like a mother, a father even, perhaps. Forever and ever and ever. Guiding you into the right direction, but lovingly. There are so many ways I could love you, Christine, which one are you asking me about?’ ‘All of them, every single one of them. Do you love me in any of those ways?’ you laughed and twirled away. I should have said yes. Yes, yes, yes, I love you. There. I said it. I love you in all of those ways.

Do you remember the times by the shore? I do, it was summer and we blew bubbles to the setting sun. It was beautiful, but you are even more beautiful. Why did you have to do it? I just can’t understand it. Perhaps it was of my quick kiss on your lips, maybe I shouldn’t have done it. But your lips were wet with strawberry juice, they were so red and I pressed mine against yours. I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you wanted. I should have said I was sorry. Not that I regret it, and I hope that the kiss isn’t the reason for this all. You tasted so sweet, like honey and sugar mixed with cotton candy. You tasted like Christine. Sweet, so sweet it could hurt my teeth, yet so pure.

I didn’t talk to you for three days. I’m so sorry for that. I do regret that. I should have told you everything at that point. You might have understood. You might have felt the same. I might have tasted your lips again. You would still be in my here. Not there, where here is everywhere. You confuse me, Christine, you confuse me a lot. I don’t know what’s right anymore; I thought it felt so right that moment. But they keep saying they don’t want to hear it. But I loved you, Christine. I loved you, I loved you. I think I still do love you. Unconditionally. Heavily. Forever and ever and ever. I can’t think about who I would be if I no longer loved you. I don’t want to.

I know it might be too late, but you always said it was never too late for anything. But it’s too late; you know it, don’t you? I’ll say it anyway, I’ll tell you, I promised I would tell you anything. Every silly little detail. I loved you since my eyes first met yours, when your sea green melted with my sober gray and you smiled. You made me warm, fuzzy, and unable to sleep. I kept thinking about you, my dear, my dearest of all, my Christine. I loved you since the moment your hand touched mine, you were so soft, and you made me even softer inside. How could I know what such soft hands could do to your fragile body? I wish I told you then, Christine, my angel, I know you are still here. Somewhere. I just miss your smile. Your smile, your touch, your soft voice that whispered the most beautiful words. Are you there, Christine? Are you still here? Will you hold my hand one last time Christine? We can take the jump together now that I know. Now that you know. I’m so sorry Christine.</tt>