Water droplets slowly dripped off the ends of the oak leaves. It had rained all night, and now in the early morning, it was still cold and wet. Fog had settled and the air felt too thick to breathe; no one was outside, and cars lined Upton Street. Women’s heels clicked against the paved walkway of the Arden’s house, and the screen door whined loudly as people walked in and out.

The living room was packed with people, all silent except for the occasional exchange of apologies. The Arden’s, Paul and Tina, stood near the table covered with food. They’d taken the trouble to prepare things like finger sandwiches, cubes of cheese and a plate of pasta; not much had been eaten. Everyone wore dark tones; some boy in the corner had dared to wear pinstripes. Pinstripes had been Grey’s classic trademark.

Bella sat at the window seat, looking at the lawn. The grass hadn’t been cut in months, and it grew long and wild, weeds poking up bright yellow. Oak leaves littered the ground with the coming fall, but no one had cared to rake them. Bella looked to the driveway where Paul’s car was sitting. Next to it was a motorcycle, an old Harley. A dirty cloth covered the whole bike as if keeping it from collecting dust. But it hadn’t been used in such a long time; the engine was probably clogged.

Bella heard sniffling behind her, and she turned to face the room. Kally stood beside the open casket, looking down at Grey’s still body. Bella really didn’t think it looked like him at all. The still thing was a stranger to her. Though he looked like he was in a peaceful sleep, some of his body still bore signs of his death.

Grey had disappeared a year before on a similar Saturday afternoon. Bella remembered when he left home. She had watched him from her bedroom window. He had walked out of his house in his typical attire: faded jeans, black turtleneck under a black jacket, his usual smudge of oily eyeliner, and his boots, faded gray at the toe. She remembered watching him go down the street, turning left at the end of Upton and disappearing in the direction of the highway.

No one knew where he went; no one but Bella. He had left a note for her after his accident, saying he couldn’t stay home anymore. He asked her not to look for him.

She left home anyway, remembering his friends lived in Manhattan. She had thought she could find him there. Among the tall buildings and endless bustle, Bella only found sorrow. He was found dead a month later. Bella didn’t want to hear the cause of death, nor did she want to have to be the one to identify his body. Unfortunately, she was the only one the police could contact in Manhattan, and she was forced to do both.

There was a light touch on Bella’s shoulder, and she looked up at Tina. The woman smiled faintly, offering a plastic cup of some sort of drink. Bella was about to decline, but thought it would be polite to accept.

“Thank you,” she said in a whisper.

“Are you doing okay?” Tina asked in a shaking voice.

“Yeah—yeah I’m okay,” Bella said, forcing herself to smile.

“We’ve left his room like it was. I haven’t touched it.” Tina looked at the staircase as if debating whether or not to go up. “I wanted you to take some things. Anything you want from there. I know he’d want that.”

Bella stared at Grey’s mother. Tina hadn’t dared go into the room for a long time. Bella knew Tina never went in it, not since Grey had disappeared.

“Really, I think it would be best if you took some things first. I know his other friends will want to go too,” Tina added.

Bella nodded, standing slowly. She pulled down the fabric of her skirt, as it had caught on her gray nylons. She felt uncomfortable in funeral attire, but her mother had demanded she wear the black skirt and blouse. She said it was expected.

Bella passed by Kally and the rest of Grey’s friends as she went towards the stairs. They watched her, expecting her to look up and say something. But she kept her eyes on the floor. She put a light hand to the rail of the stairs, walking up slowly as he heels made a hollow sound on the steps. She reached the landing and looked to the left, seeing the closed door that led to Grey’s room. She passed by the pictures on the right wall, all of Grey. The last one was the one used for the missing person posters. Bella chose not to look at it. She put her cup down on the floor next to the door, carefully touching the doorknob as if expecting it to be hot. She turned it, hearing it click, and the door was released.

Grey’s room was cold, the air thin. Dirty and clean clothes littered every inch of the floor, though you couldn’t tell the difference between the two. His bed was unmade, the sheets tangled beneath the comforter. His guitar, on the floor next to the bed, was still plugged into the amp.

Bella stepped into the sea of clothes, going towards the window at the other side of the room. The air smelled old and musty, not like it used to. Grey used to burn Nag Champa, two incense sticks at a time. Bella used to lie on the bed and inhale deep while he sat in the desk chair, playing nameless tunes. Atrophy was at a standstill, not knowing what to do about the sudden lack of a vocalist.

Running is never good, but it’s better than dying.

Bella lowered herself onto the cold bed. She let her shoes slide from her feet, and slowly lay down. She pushed her legs under the sheets and comforter, putting her head on the pillow. If she breathed deep enough, she could still catch the smell of him: the barely there cologne, shampoo, and his own unique scent. Bella closed her eyes and held the corner of the pillow in a fist.

Downstairs, she could hear someone suddenly sobbing. Tears huddled in the corners of her eyes, and fell, staining the pillowcase with black puddles. She felt something under the pillow, and reached to retrieve it. She pulled out a stick of eyeliner, the tip rounded from constant use. Grey’s mother had never really liked the fact that her son wore eyeliner; she didn’t think it was very masculine. Grey never cared what she said, but hid the eyeliner anyway.

Bella grasped the eyeliner in her hand, holding it close so maybe some physical part of him would stay with her.