Anna thought about leaving and going back upstairs to wait until the person on the bench left, but before she could, a female voice called out to her. “Yo, you over there. You got a light?” Anna did have a lighter in her purse, because she had also brought a candle, which she had planned to light in Alexia’s honor. She wanted to do a quick memorial service of her own, since she would miss his, and had brought the poems he wrote for her so she could read one aloud.

Anna walked over and handed the girl on the bench her pink lighter. The girl had dark hair, which Anna thought was black like her own. But as she got closer she realized it was in fact a dark emerald green. She had many piercings going up both ears and a ring of roses tattooed around her ankle. She was dressed in all black and wore a black motorcycle jacket that looked familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it.

“Thanks for the light. Want one?” the girl asked, holding out a cigarette.

Anna had only smoked a handful of cigarettes in her life, though she and Alexia had shared a few post-coitally once, which made her smile, because she felt at the time like they were kids pretending they were far older, smoking in bed after sex.

“Sure, thanks,” Anna said, taking the outstretched Marlboro Light and firing it up with her pink lighter.

Anna sat down next to the girl, and the two of them smoked for a bit.

“I know why you’re here,” the girl said.

This totally freaked out Anna, and she wondered if she had somehow already taken the pills and was now hallucinating. Or maybe she was already dead, a ghost stuck in purgatory like that famous movie about the kid seeing dead people, and this girl was her guide.

“You read that fucked-up story in the paper, right?” she said, exhaling smoke through her nose like Khaleesi’s dragon Drogon. “And I thought I had it bad. That poor girl had to see her boyfriend get hit by a train! Whammo!” She clapped her hands for emphasis, which shocked Anna for its vulgarity, given the subject matter. “I mean, that’s gotta suck some big ol’ balls. And I should know because I lost the guy I loved, too. Two months ago in Arizona. It wasn’t as romantic, because he wasn’t saving my life and dying in the process, but I was with him when it happened.”

“What happened?” Anna asked. “How did he die?”

“Overdose. Smack. H-bomb. Horse. Heroin. He’s just another statistic of the opioid crisis in America, I guess. But he’s buried up here and I just needed to be near him, you know?”

Anna knew the girl was talking tough, but she could hear the sadness in her voice.

I need to be where you are.