The Colour of the Distant Spring
Chapter 1
Not the dramatic kind from movies, just a dull, lifeless gray that seemed to stretch forever.
Rows of umbrellas stood silently among the gravestones. The priest's voice faded into the background, drowned out by the ringing in Edward Blake's ears.
He stared at the freshly dug grave.
The name engraved on the stone blurred before his eyes.
His grandmother had always told him not to cry at funerals.
"Celebrate a life well lived instead," she'd say with a smile.
But standing there, watching the last person who had ever felt like home disappear beneath the earth, Edward found that advice impossible to follow.
People offered condolences.
Edward barely heard any of them.
He remained by the grave long after everyone else had left.
Only when the evening air grew cold did his father approach.
Samuel Blake(MC's Father)
"Edward"
Samuel Blake(MC's Father)
"We should head home."
Edward finally looked up.
His father hesitated before speaking again.
Samuel Blake(MC's Father)
"The moving company arrives next week."
The reminder he'd been avoiding.
A new life he never asked for.
Edward looked back at the gravestone.
Edward Blake(MC)
"I'm leaving".
The wind carried the words away.
For a moment he imagined his grandma laughing softly.
"Then go. Don't spend your life standing still because I did." He imagined his grandma saying this.
Edward managed a small laugh.
It was the first one he'd worn all day.
And it disappeared just as quickly.
Chapter 2
The car ride home was silent.
Edward sat in the backseat, forehead resting at the cold window.
Familiar streets passed by one after another. The bakery his grandma used to drag him every Sunday morning, the park where she'd taught him how to ride a bike, the little flower shop where she always bought daisies because it reminds her about grandpa and his "cheerfulness".
Soon none of it would matter.
A dry chuckle left from his mouth.
His father kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel.
His mother keeps staring out the passenger-side window.
Not because it was quiet.
Because she wasn't there.
Her reading glasses still sat on the coffee table.
Her favorite blanket was folded neatly over the couch.
A half-finished crossword puzzle rested beside her armchair.
As if she might walk in at any moment and continue where she'd left off.
Edward climbed the stairs and shut himself in his room.
Boxes were already stacked against the wall.
His parents had begun packing weeks ago when her health started declining.
At the time, moving had felt distant.
Now it felt too close.
He dropped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.
That night, sleep refused to come.
Around midnight, Edward found himself standing in front of his grandmother's room.
The door was slightly open.
He stepped inside.
Moonlight spilled through the curtains.
Everything looked exactly the same.
His gaze landed on a wooden box resting atop the dresser.
Inside were dozens of old photographs.
Pictures from birthdays.
Family vacations.
School events.
Memories frozen in time.
Then he found a folded envelope with his name written on it.
Chapter 3
___📨📃____
"My dear Ed,
If you're reading this, then I've finally managed to escape all those doctor's appointments.
Don't be too sad. I'm old enough that even my bones have started complaining.
I know you're scared about moving.
Change has never been easy for you.
You've spent so many years convincing yourself that needing people is a weakness.
I suppose that's what happens when a child learns too early how to keep himself company."
His fingers tightened around the paper.
___📨___
"But loneliness and independence aren't the same thing, sweetheart.
Some people spend their whole lives confusing the two."
___📨____
"I know there were many afternoons when you came running to my house instead of going home first.
And many nights when you'd sit in my kitchen pretending you weren't waiting for someone to notice you were upset."
___📨____
"You never fooled me, you know."
A lump formed in Rowan's throat.
___📨____
"Your parents love you in their own way.
They're just not very good at saying the things that matter.
Sometimes adults carry their own silences for so long that they forget how to put them down."
___📨___
"Try not to inherit that habit from us."
At the bottom of the letter was one final sentence.
___📨___
"And please try making a friend for once. You glare at people like an angry cat."
A watery laugh escaped him.
Edward Blake(MC)
"Unbelievable"
Even after death, she was still teasing him.
He folded the letter carefully and pressed it against his chest.
For the first time since the funeral, the weight inside him felt just a little lighter.
Outside, the wind rustled the trees.
And hundreds of miles away, in a city Edward hadn't yet seen, someone was about to change his life forever.
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