Answers

I stand at the shore, sending puffs of smoke in the air in hopes of getting an answer. I stand there for the longest time talking to the rocks, the sea, the wind. Telling them stories no one wants to hear. She would. She would always listen no matter how ridiculous it was. I stand there telling them about her and how beautiful she was. How her eyes were deeper than this sea and how her touch was more comforting than this wind and how in spite of all the love and softness, she was strong. Stronger than I was. I smoke some more expecting her to see these puffs from the stars she now lives with, and rescue me like she always did. "This is not the answer!", she'd tell me. She'd always have the answer. She always had the words to comfort people. I wonder where she went when she needed comfort? Did she go to the waters, like I did? Or the woods? Or to people?
I take out my phone and open her profile which now had no user.
"Find comfort in your prayer mat and you'll never have to look for it again", read her last status.
Again, she had the answer.