Eight. Eight times it’s rained. Like the sky’s taking after me, long lost the will to put on its nicest dress.

I flick off the radio, keeping one hand on the steering wheel even though I’m parked. I haven’t really been listening to it. Not the last few trips, honestly. They used to be comforting, Ani’s tunes, as I drove the hour between home and here. Now it’s just… noise, I guess. Don’t even know what it was playing when I switched it off.

I pull my keys from the ignition and get out of the car, reaching for the doorhandle. It’s slick with fresh rainfall, like the parking lot, which hasn’t been paved in years. I shut the door and start walking. There’s not much purpose in my step. Meeting’s gonna be same as before – same as the seventh, sixth, all the others too. Arranged it last night; spent like an hour talking to a bot that seemed more bored than I was.

I can see that old window up ahead, on the front of the old grey building and to the left of the door. Hasn’t been cleaned since forever ago. Remember when Ani and I’d go on drives, back when we lived in the city. Must’ve been, what, ten years ago, and the window looked the same back then. Hell, maybe it’s been that guy’s office the whole time, too. I see him through it every time – always the same guy, sitting in a black swivel chair, hands folded up in his lap. As I’m getting closer I can already see him, doing just that, sitting there in his suit, beige, with a white tie round his neck.

I reach the window and just… stop, for a second. See his office through the hazy glass, only three, four times bigger than a cubicle and decorated about the same. Picture hangs next to his desktop, and I can see him in it, smiling next to a woman with long blonde hair and a done-up smile. His wife, maybe, guy looks at her like he’s waiting for the photographer to finish up so he can take her to bed.

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I never learned his name. He never offered to tell me. He knows mine, though, spent a couple minutes getting him to pronounce it right our first meet. Remember he laughed, a polite laugh, fake as the woman’s lips. He started his spiel, same one every time. Goes to the trouble of rephrasing it; credit where it’s due. But it’s the same. Says there are rules, says animals can’t be buried on city land, says people can’t be buried on private land when I ask if I could bury her myself. Sometimes he asks if I’ll consider cremation. Said, “Surely, Miss Hekekia, you could mix ashes?”

Says it’s all just carbon. Scarlet macaw, Human, when it’s ash it’s ash, I wouldn’t notice a thing. That used to make me mad, first time I visited. But anger just turned into annoyance, and that turned into boredom. Fifth visit, sixth, whichever, that went too. ‘Cause it’s just routine, now, these visits, the cloudy sky, squeaking windshield wipers, the window and his office chair and his dull, grey suit. Like a Wednesday errand. Like I’m running to the grocery store but all the food’s triple the cost. Tight on money enough as it is.

That’s what I said then. Money’s real tight right now. I’m doing my best, sis, you gotta give me some time. And Ani trusted that. Trusted me. ‘Cause I was big sis, wouldn’t lie to her. Told myself that too. And then she’d leave the next morning, get drunk the next night and crash on my couch. And I’d tell her again. I’m working on it. Could have something soon. Something better. And she’d smile that little smile she only ever gave me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper quietly, and I turn, and walk back toward my car. For a moment my nose stings, bad. Feel a tear welling up in my eye. But then it’s gone, and I’m just walking again.

A minute later, it’s just my tear left on the pavement. Tiniest bit of salt, mixed in with the rain.