The sun blazed in the vivid blue sky, without a single cloud in sight. Gusts of crisp air, mild for the late autumn season, tickled his whiskers as he ambled down the paved stone path. 

What a perfect day for fenceball.

Xaza felt the presence of the stones all around him. Thousands of stories, some over a century long, all buried deep in the soil. But some stories didn’t last that long. Their words suddenly stop, leaving half their book unwritten. It was up to those still reading to keep their tales alive. 

He stepped off the paved path and cut through the grass until he reached his destination—a plain headstone, not yet weathered by time. He sat down next to it and smiled.

“Hey, bud. Sorry I’m late.” He sighed and ran a claw through the dirt. “You know how drivers around here are, so I took the long way. I’d rather join ya up here than down there—at least, for now.” The tabby let out a chuckle, ending in a sigh. “The wind’s perfect today. Just the way ya like it.”

Xaza looked at the two dates on the headstone. How he wished he could erase the second one. He pulled out his phone, opened his messages with Tlachxo, then scrolled back to this time last year. He had been deep into figuring out which college had the best sports program. His heart was set on getting into Southwest, nearly two hundred kilometres away. Xaza didn’t want to go that far. He was fine with staying in Port Rozen and going to Rozen U. And he remembered being so sad when he realized that, after his best friend moved far away, he might never see him again. 

He put his phone back into his pocket. “College’s been going really well. Been puttin’ up some real good times lately. You were right, man. I shoulda got into running long ago.” He laughed. “Makes my legs feel like noodles and my chest feel like I’m breathin’ fire, but I love it.” He looked at the sky, and a gentle breeze blew past him. “Yeah, I’m doin’ alright. Oh, hey! Remember I told you about my roommate, Melias? We’re getting along pretty good. I think he’s finally warmin’ up to me. You know, he actually reminds me a lot of your little bro. Big nerd, kinda awkward to talk to, but a real good guy underneath.” He went silent and closed his eyes, focusing on the wind as it blew through his fur. “Speakin’ of Teushko—I haven’t forgotten about him. He’s doing great. Your mom was so worried that he wouldn’t be able to handle high school, but he’s makin’ friends and everything!” His voice dropped, and the joy drained from it. “But he misses his big bro a lot.”

Xaza took a deep breath and looked at the huge yew tree in the centre of the cemetery, its thick, tangled branches motionless in the breeze. He tried to speak again, but choked on his words. If he had done the right thing, Teushko’s big brother would still be around.

“I’m just… I really miss you, man.” 

He glanced back at the grave and read Tlachxo’s name over and over again. Why was it here? His mother and father weren’t here. Hell, even his grandparents were all still alive. But Tlachxo wasn’t. It just wasn’t fair. 

“I’m… I’m sorry, man. I… I don’t know. Maybe ya wouldn’t have survived either way. But… but I think you would have. Fuck, what am I saying? I’m just talking to the fucking wind.” He scoffed, but his jaw quivered as his eyes grew wet. “S-sorry. I just—I wish you were still here. I just wanna hang out with you again. I… I—”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose as his breaths shook out. Tears formed in his eyes. He squinted to keep them in, but as soon as he tried to speak, his chest heaved, and misery poured out. He leaned against the grave and covered his eyes with his paw. “You deserved better,” Xaza said. “Why, man, why? Why’d you have to…why’d you—” The rest of the sentence fell away, replaced by sputtered sobs. He tried to speak again, but every time he opened his mouth, another mournful yowl came out instead. So he just cried, letting the warm, salty tears run down his face.

“Fuckin’... stupid, fucking… I just—I should have—damn it!” He slammed his paw into the ground and dug his claw into the soil, yanking the grass from the ground. He shook his hand to get the dirt out from under his claws, then rubbed the back of his paw over his eyes, smearing the tears across it. “I’m sorry! I… I… I’m sorry…”

Grief paralyzed him, and he wept, and wept, and wept. His shoulder dug into the edge of the headstone, but he didn’t care. He deserved it. His mind overflowed with memories of his friend, some wonderful, some horrible, but all of them part of a story that ended far, far too soon. He blinked hard and swiped the tears away, then looked at the adjacent plot. Why did this ‘Shlaloz Exltek’ get to tell their whole story? Why couldn’t Tlachxo? Why was life so deeply unfair?

No matter how many times he apologized, the bitterness of regret never left his tongue. No matter how hard he tried to forget, the memory of his friend’s cold, stiff body clung to his soul like tar. No matter how much he begged for the world to give Tlachxo back, he knew he would never would never see him again.

It made him wish he were the one in the ground.

But in that mess of memories, one forced its way through. Xaza was no longer leaning against a grave, but a locker. He stared at the far wall of the dressing room, slowly shaking his head. 

“Hey, quit your mopin’.”

Xaza slowly craned his neck toward a taller, stockier cat, who looked down at him with a big grin puffing up his grey fur.

“I just can’t believe I missed,” Xaza said.

“Well, ya did. What are you gonna do about it?”

Xaza sighed. “Can’t ya just let me be sad?”

Tlachxo gently pushed on his shoulder. “Fine, fine. Just remember—there’s always the next one. You gonna be ready for it, or you just gonna feel sorry for yourself?”

“I dunno.”

The grey cat sat next to Xaza and stretched. “I don’t get it, dude. Whenever I see people sulkin’ like this, I’m always just like, why you lettin’ your past steal your future? We lost, and yeah, it’s because you missed.” He shrugged. “Oh well. Like I said—there’s always the next one!” He patted Xaza’s shoulder. “And seeing my bud down in the dumps bugs me way more than any missed shot. C’mon. Teushko’s gonna be worried sick if ya keep me here any longer.”

Xaza opened his eyes and looked into the crystal blue sky. ‘There’s always the next one.’ He thought that’d always be true. He knew better now. At some point, we all play our last game. 

Still, Tlachxo was mostly right. He didn’t have a next one—but Xaza did. The world had forever changed, but it kept turning all the same. The sun would rise in the morning and set at night. People would carry on, living each day the same as they always had. And Xaza would too—just as Tlachxo would have wanted.

The stream of tears slowed to a trickle, and his breath returned to normal. He leaned away from the tombstone and rubbed his shoulder as another soft breeze shook his fur. “Hey, man. Are you proud of me? I didn’t cry as long as last time.” He rubbed the tears from his cheeks. “I know, you never really got all that mental health stuff. Always so tough. Never let things get to you.” He looked at the ground as he remembered Tlachxo insisting that he didn’t need to go to the hospital. “I wish you would have been a little more vulnerable. Maybe you’d still be here.”

He watched the grass shimmer as the wind rolled over it. Sadness crept back in, but he had done his crying. He had done his grieving. He took out his phone, checked the time, then sighed. “Well… I got practice in an hour, so I better be getting back. I’ll see ya in a few weeks, T.” 

As Xaza stood up and stepped toward the path, a stiff gust rushed over him, echoing around in his ears. His legs locked in place, but a smile crept onto his face. He turned his head and stared at the grave. “Alright, alright, just a few more minutes.” Xaza again sat next to the tombstone, arms around his knees, gently rocking back and forth. As the breeze swirled around him, he looked into the horizon and breathed in deep. 

“What a perfect day for fenceball…”