The words on Infinity Stone’s grave tell me she “fought a great battle against brain cancer.”
She probably died suffering, unable to tell her last words to her parents, unable to do anything but suffer inside her head, confined by the cancer.
Infinity attended my school, but I never really spoke to her. She was one of those people that people like me never speak to, at least, until we want to. Until we want to tell them we’re sorry we ever hurt them, that it was not anything we meant, we care about them, except we’re cool and they are… not.
I don't think Infinity would care about what I have to say, however. She was one of those kinds of girl, the one who didn’t care about all the harsh words my friends and my girlfriend threw her way. All she did was walk by with her head held high.
Infinity was different from the rest. She didn’t insult us back, and she never said a harsh word to anyone. I wish I was able to take back every bad thing I ever said to her, I wish I were able to tell her I am sorry, I didn’t mean a thing about what I said.
A hot tear rolls down my face and lands on her grave. The wind starts to blow, and the grey storm clouds open up, pouring down rain on my head. I look up at the sky, then back down to Infinity’s grave.
I kneel on the grass, bow my head, and begin to say my last words to Infinity Stone.
“Infinity, I don't know if you can hear this, but if you can I want to tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you when you were alive. I’m sorry I didn’t do anything when my friends were mean to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to help, and I’m sorry you had to go through all that. You didn’t deserve it, and I wish I could take back every crappy thing we ever said.”
When I am done with my last words, I stand up and brush my pants off. “Goodbye, Infinity Stone.”
And it might just be my imagination, but it’s as if the wind blows a just a little bit softer, like it’s Infinity saying goodbye back to me.