Story Quote #5148164
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Melancholy June trudged down the sidewalk to her small townhouse.

Melancholy



June trudged down the sidewalk to her small townhouse. She was purposely walking in every puddle that came in her path to make her feet cold and wet, as if to punish herself or to show how little she cared. All she wore was a pair of old worn out converse, and she didn't care. It didn't matter to her what shoes or what outfit she wore like it used to be when she was younger.
 

The walk home from school was always colorless and long. She could only think of one thing; Mommy. That's the only name she had been able to use for her, because she was in 6th grade when it happened, yet it seemed so close and so recent. Was she over-reacting? Cutting herself off from society, purposely making life hard, as if Mommy's death was her fault and she had to bear the pain? The tears had long since passed; she never cried, the most she felt physically was a dry ache in her throat. She kept it all bottled and thought on it too much, almost as if the pain felt good to her. There was nothing her father could do to help. He tried to give her things and take her to new places. Eventually, he thought she didn't care or appreciate him. But she did, and she hated herself for making it seem like she didn't. She tried to show her love but it always came out as being rude.
 

Suddenly she found herself at her front door. She didn't want to go in. She had always managed to say something spiteful while trying to say something loving to her father, then later reflecting on it, and she hated herself for what she said. But, as if she had no control of her body, her thin arm raised and twisted the sphere-like handle with the chipping yellow paint. The door creaked open. She stepped in and took her dripping shoes off. Her father was gone and his word was posted on the side of the refrigerator. Every morning her parents used to choose a random word from the dictionary and try it on June. She would try and guess the definition until dinner, when they finally flipped the note over and showed her what it meant. Then she would have to find a way to use it in the next 20 minutes. It was a stupid elementary game, but it was one of those family traditions that brought them closer together. June stopped playing long ago, but he kept posting them. She always knew what the definition was and he would never ask her to play in fear she might reject him. But this one caught her eye, she did not know it. She spelled it out “Melancholy”. Then she went to her laptop and Googled it. She didn't even have to click on the dictionary.com link because google had posted the definition in big letters “A deep, pensive, and long-lasting sadness”. She knew her dad hadn't chosen one randomly, he had looked for it. She untaped the note from the refrigerator and flipped it over. It was not a definition, instead in small messy print it said “Dear June, I love you and always have but we need to move on. Your mother was always a happy person and she wouldn't want to see us like this. We can make the move together and I'll help every step of the way. She loved to hear you laugh and so did I. I'd give almost anything to hear your beautiful voice, happy again. This was the word she picked her last day in the hospital and she made me promise to make sure this never happened to you. No matter what happens we have to keep that promise because it meant everything to her. Love, Daddy”. She felt tears running freely down her face, and she then put her face in her sleeve. All her feelings that she had bottled up were released. 

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