There's something about the night sky that never fails to charm me. I've always loved gazing at the stars, splattered over the most beautiful hues of darkness and spread out in patterns beyond our comprehension. There's a special kind of magic hidden in a night sky.

Those were the first words of my best friend's novel, clumsy letters smeared onto the thin page of a one-dollar-shop recycled-paper notebook. I looked up from the battered old booklet. Glittering back at me was a net of stars, and the ethereal glow of the full moon greeted my face with its silvery embrace. Here in the outskirts, human lights weren't strong enough to outshine nature yet.

"You're right, Lily", I smiled and spoke to the memorial stone beside me. "The sky is beautiful tonight as well, isn't it."

The silence that followed my voice wasn't empty. It was filled with the rich sounds of a summer night on a hill. The tall grass rustling in the gentle breeze. The petals in the branches above me exchanging quiet whispers. The brook down below gurgling a funny song. Cicadas chirping somewhere off in the distance. I had grown used to these sounds long ago. The familiar background draped over me like a comforting blanket on a chilly night.

I brushed the old pages with my thumb, traced the smudged pencil lines with my fingertips. However crumpled the paper might have been, however unprofessional the writing style at times, this right here was a piece of my best friend's soul. Lily used to write. She used to dream. She used to create worlds and tell me all about them. The thing I was holding in my hands right now was the one thing she managed to turn into a written story before she left. 

As I held the paper, a nostalgic feeling overcame me. I had witnessed the pages filling word for word. Often, she had asked me for advice, or overwhelmed me with info dumps, or pulled me into a heated discussion about imaginary fantasy politics. I knew the cause behind almost every silly side note, or the reason for almost every crossed out sentence. I didn't remember how many times I've read through this booklet. I lost count long ago.

But it was okay, I thought. It didn't feel lonely anymore. When I sat here under this tree, it was like one of those sleepy days after school back then. When I didn't, it was alright too. It had hurt at first, badly. Of course it had. But over time, the feelings of hurt and regret turned into those of comfort and fond memory. Maybe it was because I knew she would be watching over me, if she could. Maybe it was because enough of her had been part of me that she never really left in her entirety.

Bury me under our wysteria tree! Listen... Hey, don't cry- I'm not sad, see? Bury me there, and we'll be able to chat whenever we want, like we always did. You can come by and tell me all about your new adventures!

And that's what we did. At night, we would watch the stars together. And I would talk to her about boring daily life, and read - there was even a time when I'd come to the graveyard to study for exams, yikes - or sometimes, I would come to nap under the tree after a difficult day, and in my dreams, she would tell me more stories.

The wysteria tree would cover us from the rest of the world and its tiring expectations. This had always been our hiding place from reality. Of course, over the years, I met new friends, and had new life experiences, and gained new interests. At one point, I had to leave for a few years to pursue higher education. But I always came back here. If I had to put a name to it, this would be the one place I'd always return to. Home.

"My eyesight must have worsened again", I found myself muttering as I squinted at the letters. I've been reading with nothing but phone light and the moon, after all. I rubbed my eyes and turned the page.

"Ah, who cares."

And with that, I let myself be carried away once again, into a world far away and yet strangely familiar and welcoming, because it had been created by a person dear to me. Somehow, I didn't notice how time and space around me had started to dissolve, and neither did I notice myself nodding off. Oblivion greeted me like an old friend. And before I knew it, I was whisked away.