Free Craving by Kristina Meister

to.
    “Excuse me?” I said lamely.
    He closed the book and his fingers captivated my attention, but even as I marveled at how attracted I was, and why on earth I could be thinking of something like that at a time like this, I knew a certain amount of embarrassment. He was handsome, yes, but it was not the looks that mattered. It was the calm way he stood. It was the graceful way he both came near me and yet kept his distance from my thoughts.
    He could not be a man constantly surrounded by death or the miseries of others, but someone living behind a big wall, listening to hymns, reading metaphysics. He had a presence, and though I’d always heard people talk about that kind of thing, I had never before felt it.
    In a moment of disquiet, I could have sworn I knew him, but I was positive that if I had ever seen someone like him, I would have remembered it clearly. It felt strange to be so enthralled, just that quickly.
    His eyes lifted with the corners of his mouth. They were blue like the sky and gave him an exotic look. “A Japanese poem, written by a Zen master at the moment of his death.”
    His arm moved away from his body casually and the book landed on top of Eva’s casket. Then, he turned and started for the large, iron gate to the cemetery, walking as if he really had no reason to be going anywhere in particular. Something about that demeanor made me think that he might not mind if I admitted not wanting to be alone for once.
    “Excuse me?” I called after him, cringing that I hadn’t put my years of crossword puzzles to better use.
    What was a five letter word, beginning with “I,” for an incredibly stupid individual who tripped over her own thoughts as they rolled off her tongue?
    “Did you know my sister?”
    To my amazement, though, he turned and strangely, even though he seemed relaxed, the glance over the shoulder did not come off as austere. He looked at me as if he had to be sure I could understand him when he spoke.
    “Did you?”
    Taken aback that he could be callous while seeming so genteel, I stared after him blankly as he walked toward the street. One of my chief regrets in my life thus far was my temper, but even though I tried to manage it, it somehow always took hold of my spine and operated my limbs like a remote control car. I chased after him, forgetting all about the pearl in the ground.
    “Excuse me?” I asked angrily, and to my credit, it did come out sounding different from all the other times.
    He stopped in his tracks and the proximity warning in my mind beeped until my anger management issue got fed up and stormed off. I came to an abrupt, lurching halt and waited to see what he’d do.
    “It’s all there, you know,” he said with a sigh. “Every answer you’ve ever wanted, but sometimes it’s the reason for asking that is the most questionable thing.”
    I couldn’t say it a fourth time, I was sure that was far too many, so I settled for, “What?”
    “The only way you’ll see the answer, is if you already know what’s important to you.”
    “A lot of things are important to me,” I defended, and instantly heard my petulance.
    He shook his head. “Do you love the sadness you feel, to protect it so viciously?”
    I scowled at his back. “Everything that meant anything to me is dead. How about you let me grieve in peace?”
    He turned around completely and once again, looked through me.
    “You had her within reach for so long and never once asked how she felt, what she knew, who meant the most to her. Now she is gone forever. You do not grieve for her, but for the lost chance.”
    His honesty cut through me to the core. For some reason, I felt insanely angry that anyone could question my devotion to her, even as I was there cleaning up her final mess.
    “She hated everything, thought that the world was out to get her, and only cared about herself! She was the guilty one,” I shouted at him, a real total stranger, who probably hadn’t even met Eva and was just