After Hannah’s death, Steele started the day the same way he treated people, mysterious, cold, dark, quietness. He wore black clothes everyday. When people stared, he would give a nice cold glare. When he visited Hannah’s parents, they tried to calm him down and persuade him, it wasn’t his fault. Then, her parents asked him to draw a picture of her, knowing he was a great artist with pencil, when it comes to realism. Holding tears back, he said ‘yes’. Hannah’s parents thanked him and said that if Hannah was still here she would be very happy. Steele gave a curt nod and said the he had to leave, and grabbed his coat.
Steele walked along the icy pathway. It was the dreadful winter. Snuggling his mouth deeper into his scarf, he thought of when Hannah and he last enjoyed the snow. “Haah…”
As Steele opened the door to his flat, he breathed in the smell of warmth. Putting his coat and shoes away, he headed towards his room, which he was working on a portrait of Hannah for Hannah’s parents. He was working on two portraits of her, one for her parents and one for himself in memory of her, of course. Picturing himself with her seemed so… distant, far away. She was, indeed, just a piece of memory. But for his relationship with her, that memory was… special. Turning on his computer, he looked at Hannah’s last post on her blog. “Aah.” There the post about how there were the terrible gangsters in the alley near her apartment that she detested. Steele decided to work on the portraits to get his mind off the depression. But it didn’t. The portraits, were, well for HER funeral. So, it didn’t work at all. After working on the clothing she wore in the portrait, he decided to make dinner.
After dinner, he walked to Hannah’s apartment. “Ah…” Steele breathed out in the cold air. Turning around, he walked towards a deserted castle which was nearby. Sitting on what was the remains of a bench, Steele began talking to himself. “This area was destroyed, because of war. Hannah died of war against… gangsters. The cruel thoughts of one. It’s getting late.” Steele shook his head, and stared at his cellphone.
Arriving at his flat, he did his routine of coming home. Getting ready for a shower, he sighed at looking at the pictures of Hannah and him in her alive days of happiness, the cheerful trips around the world.
Sitting on his bed he yawned. Soon after thinking about nothing, he turned off the light, and dozed off.
