one of my few attempts at short stories.

i can never seem to forget that phone call, no matter how hard i try. it plagues me all hours of the day. your words ring clear in my mind;
"i can't do this anymore. it's just too much."
it was always too much for you to handle. it never ceases to surprise me how i talk of you in the past tense, as if you're already gone.
i remember sitting in the kitchen at the old wooden table. my mom told me once that you could still see the marks from where my grandfather's shirt buttons wore it down, but i could never find them. i searched for them again (a fruitless endeavor, no doubt) while also searching my brain for a solution to the big question; how could i save you?
i decided that a second opinion might help, so i went to my father. i told him that you'd called, and i told him what you'd said. his expression changed from one of pleasant surprise to one of grave sadness. i remember feeling happy because it made me feel like he would treat the situation with the importance it deserved.
the air between us began to feel awkward, so i went back to the kitchen.
later, when i went to bed, i felt confident that we'd be able to fix this. i decided that the situation was essentially resolved, although i couldn't shake the sinking feeling i had in the pit of my stomach.
i awoke the next morning on a bench. it was a very chilly fall morning and dew covered any and all surfaces outside, making them sparkle like a thousand tiny diamonds. it was beautiful.
noticing that i'd woken up, my father came over to me. as i rolled over to greet him, i noticed a crowd of about 50 people standing in your yard.
"where are we?" i asked.
he told me "we're at his house. we didn't want to tell you earlier because we know you two were close and we didn't want you to let it slip by accident, but we're throwing a surprise funeral for him and his family."
i could barely breathe. the news of your death hit me square in the heart, like a wrecking ball hitting an abandoned, rotted building.
i refused to believe it. if you were gone i wouldn't still be here, so i began searching the faces in the crowd for you. for answers; for anything.
i checked every single face floating around in your yard. every single one of them stared back at me with pity and curiosity, as if they'd never seen someone grieve before. everyone wore very old-fashioned black clothing, and not a single one of them was you.
it was only then that i noticed the girl.
she sat, perched atop your tree house, and flanked by two man-sized crows. she was blonde, with an athletic build. she had blue eyes and wore a simple outfit of a pink tshirt and jeans. she didn't have any shoes on. her expression was blank. i watched her for what felt like a very long time. she never moved. it seemed that she never even breathed, she was so still. she rarely blinked, but more so stared at the crowd and watched us all.
her eyes never once settled on me.
nobody else seemed to notice her. when i asked my father who she was, he said that she was an old friend of yours.
she frightened me and made me angry. i decided that i hated her.
i began to sob, wailing in a state of loss and grieving for not only you, but parts of me that had died as well.
and then you arrived.
your mother pulled the car into the driveway and parked. she seemed almost pleasantly surprised by the mass of people awaiting her in the yard. as the crowd moved in to pay their condolences, i saw you step out of the passenger side.
in your angry, silent way, you stood and waited. i've never been sure what it is you were waiting for, but you continued to wait nonetheless.
the girl's eyes focused on you. as if she were waiting as well.
i could hear all of the funeral guests talking to your mother, and it made me want to scream.
how is it that i can see you, but they can't? you're still alive! you're still here!
and nobody even noticed.
i screamed a scream that felt so large it swallowed me, and it became me.
and at the same time i never made a sound.
we were never heard, you and i. but then again, you never really tried to be.
the girl continued waiting in her silent, eerie way.
and the crowd moved on with the funeral proceedings.
all the pieces of what we had lay broken on the ground, the only flaw to be seen on that beautiful fall morning.