01

People die all the time, I should have gotten used to it.

On the news you are always seeing the news of a murder, run over, kidnapping or suicide. People die, it's simple and easy to understand. It turns out that when you are on the other side, when you are the person who had your heart compressed by the pain of the loss of those you loved, none of the nonsense that religious say about death makes sense. Why did this happen? You wonder. Why is he and not me?

We are born, we grow up and we die. That's the natural order of things. But there is also a second fact that I faithfully believe in. We can always change the way things end. We can always find a solution to a serious problem, turning it into nothing more than a slight headache. Skeptics call this fact Optimism, scientists call it Chaos Theory and I call it luck.

Luck is not quite as people think. It is not about carrying rabbit-shaped amulets or eating cookies with moralistic messages inside. True luck is a feeling very similar to love. Something that gives you the strength you need to protect and care for those you know.

I was lucky once. I found her in the form of a policeman with sad eyes and a beautiful smile. My luck taught me more than I could learn in my entire free life. She taught me about the loss, made me understand that we could not change the past, but that we should use it as a catapult for a better restart, as long as we had someone to count on. My luck just didn't teach me how to endure the pain without your help.

I was barely used to it. I caught myself wishing to see her every day. His presence warmed my heart in a way that no other man was able to. My luck knew your effect on me and used it to help me grow. My luck saved me from an illusory life. She protected me even when I hurt her.

My throat still looked inflamed by the repressed tears. My lips trembled and my knees folded from time to time, trying to lead me to ruins while strong arms grabbed me by the waist. I would like to say that I managed to stand firm. I would like to say that I didn't have the strength to cry a single tear since I had spent the night before crying until I fell asleep.

Unfortunately, there were more tears in me than I could be proud of.

My eyes were still swollen and sore, marking my pale face with evident dark circles. He would have laughed. He would have said that I was ridiculous and would tell me to wear sunglasses like all the others who gathered around his coffin. He knew I would have laughed back, sneered and grumbled for hours. That would have left him in a good mood. He would have been buried happily. Unlike the serious face that deformed his beautiful face.

I put my white rose on the many others, feeling my hands around my waist all the time. They dragged me back again and my head rose to see the priest who stood in front of the coffin. He made the sign of the cross in the air, opened his bible and began to dictate words in farewell. My stomach contracted and the tears returned, having a scream loose through my throat like a funeral song. I was dragged even further, hearing confused murmurs from people around me. They were all worried about my mental state instead of worrying about the dead man who waited patiently to be buried.

I was lucky once. I learned to deal with my pathetic problems with your help. My true luck came in the form of a gentle policeman with a torturing past who made my whole life nothing but an adult version of an American movie for teenagers.

My luck was a man named Zachary Malik. It was in the past. Although I didn't know that until the moment I lost it.