The old football field had changed. The goalposts that once stood proudly at either end had long been removed, leaving only faint patches of bare earth where countless matches had been fought. Wild grass crept across the uneven ground, reclaiming what had once belonged to cheers of roaring crowds and youthful dreams. Today, the decor and crowd had changed the field's mood. Rows of black canopies stretched across the grounds, their fabric swaying gently beneath the afternoon breeze. Neatly arranged chairs stood beneath them, filled with mourners dressed in black. A choir sang softly near the front while speakers carried the solemn melody across the field. Years ago, this place had echoed with cheers. This was the place where Anthony Coleman had started his football career. Today... It echoed with the solemn prayers of the grieving: A mighty football oak had been uprooted, and the cheers of fun had been reduced to cheers of mourning. Anna stood quietly beneath the largest canopy, unable to take her eyes off the polished mahogany coffin resting before the altar. It was closed, and would remain closed throughout the event. When the priest announced that it was to remain closed, there was a huge uproar by friends and sympathizers. “How can we pay respects to him if we can’t see his body?” “This is absurd.” “Why should we even come here?” The commotion had been settled now. People needed to respect the decisions of the deceased family. Anna had been standing there for almost twenty minutes. She refused to accept the sad reality displayed before her. The situation was so bizarre that they couldn’t even open the coffin for everyone to see. The priest's voice drifted in and out of her thoughts. "...ashes to ashes..." "...comfort those who mourn..." "...eternal rest..." The words reached her ears but never settled in her heart. She lowered her head. Her fingers trembled around the folded sheets of paper containing the tribute she had rewritten time and time again during the previous night. None of the versions had felt right. How could anyone summarize a life that had once been their entire world? A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. It was Daniel’s. Daniel was Anthony’s best friend. They had been friends since childhood. He could only show his care by comforting his friend’s wife. "You don't have to read all of it," he whispered. "You've been through enough." Anna managed a weak nod. "Thank you." Daniel stayed beside her, saying nothing more. Sometimes silence comforted better than words. “My condolences, Anna.” A woman sympathized with a hug. “Thank you,” Daniel responded on Anna’s behalf. Anna remained quiet. Daniel greeted a group of men from Anna’s company. From a few rows away, however, another pair of eyes watched them. Anthony's aunt, Susana, had noticed that something was off with Daniel. She was putting pieces together. The way Daniel greeted guests, answered questions directed at Anna, adjusted her chair, and even handed her water. Wherever Anna moved... Daniel was already there. This felt as if… The older woman frowned. Was she overthinking it? Or perhaps he was only being supportive. That was reasonable. But still... Something about it felt off. Was he really supporting a friend’s bereaved wife and nothing else? A wife had just lost her husband. There was a difference between offering comfort... …and being too close. She dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came. Today was not the day for suspicion. Today was for mourning. A cameraman moved quietly through the gathering, capturing every moment with patience and passion. He was dressed in an elegant black suit. From the choir to the family of the bereaved to the flowers to the coffin and then the priest. He didn’t miss any emotional moment. Even mourners wiping tears from their eyes were not left out. His camera paused briefly on Anna before moving away again. One day these recordings would become memories. The priest took his stance in the front after a silent prayer. "Before we commit our beloved Anthony Coleman to his final resting place, his wife has prepared a tribute." He turned toward her kindly, gesturing with his hand toward the podium. "Mrs. Coleman..." “Huh...” Anna was jolted to the present. Her knees suddenly felt weak. Daniel leaned closer, too close. His breath brushed against her neck, making her stiffen. She inhaled slowly... She walked toward the podium. Every footstep felt heavier than the last. A friend came to hug her as she moved onto the podium. “Take heart,” she consoled. The effect was little. Anna was still tense, her palms drenched in sweat as she unfolded the sheet with trembling hands. The microphone magnified the tiny sound of paper rubbing against paper. For several seconds... She couldn't speak. Hundreds of eyes waited patiently, and beyond the line of cars, a man stood watching. She looked at the crowd as she tried to clear the mucus blocking her throat. Tears dimmed her vision. Anna blinked, a little taken aback. Someone standing in the distance caught her attention. Who’s that? She wiped the tears blurring her vision so that she could see clearly. Yes… A man stood beside the line of cars in the parking lot. He hadn't moved. He stood still like a statue. For a fleeting moment, Anna mistook him for a security guard. Had the family hired security? She couldn't remember anyone mentioning it. Never mind. She ignored the sight and lowered her eyes onto the sheet she was holding. Finally... Her voice emerged. "When I first met Anthony..." She stopped. The words began dancing on the paper before they joined hands and blurred. She blinked away the tears, letting them fall freely on the page. "...I thought he smiled too much." A few mourners smiled faintly through their grief. "So…I… I asked him one day..." Her lips curved despite her grief. “... ‘Why are you always smiling?’” For the first time that afternoon, Anthony's laughter echoed inside her memory. “Because somebody has to make your serious face disappear.” She almost laughed, reminiscing about the good times they spent together. But then... The joy she experienced made her cry even more. The memory faded as quickly as it had appeared. She swallowed hard, as if to force the words that had stuck in her throat down. "Anthony never walked past anyone who needed help." She continued. Her eyes fell on Daniel’s face. Then another memory. Carrying groceries for Daniel’s grandmother. A time when he stopped his car to help push a stranger's broken vehicle. Bringing her breakfast when she overslept. Making terrible tea... Then insisting it tasted perfect, and she needed to stay healthy. They were tiny moments. Very ordinary moments. The kind that quietly became priceless once they were gone. Her voice began to shake. "I thought..." She paused. Her eyes lingered on the priest for a moment, who nodded with assurance, encouraging her to continue. But then… “Is she alright?” someone asked with concern. Anna seemed to have forgotten herself again. Daniel squeezed her hand. Anna understood right away, coming back to her senses. Anna nodded and continued. “I... I thought we'd grow old together.” The heaviness of the words caused her to choke on her saliva. She coughed violently. Quickly, Daniel moved to console her with a bottle of water. “Hmmm…” Susana watched the scene with disgust. Silence settled over the field. Even the wind seemed reluctant to interrupt. After taking a gulp, a tear slipped from her cheek. Then another. One landed on the page. Her tearful eyes blurred the ink, and she could no longer read the next sentence. “I'm...” The word refused to leave her mouth. Her breathing became uneven, and the paper refused to stay still in her trembling fingers. For a moment, she closed her eyes. "I'm sorry..." The silence stretched for some time. Then... A hand appeared beside her with a neatly folded white handkerchief. No one spoke, just the hand handing the handkerchief over to her. Without thinking, Anna accepted it. "Thank you," she whispered while looking down. She dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief, blew the clogged mucus from her nostrils, took one slow breath, and then another. Finally... She raised her head to look at who handed her the handkerchief. Black shirt, broad shoulders, and bushy hair graced with a thick beard. For the briefest moment... She thought she had mistaken a stranger for someone else. Then she met his eyes. There he was, staring right into her eyes. Why do his eyes feel familiar? Anna wondered. She felt something off about this man. It wasn’t his beard or his clothing, but the way he looked at her when she was breaking apart. Anthony was the only one who came to mind from the man’s eerie aura. Time stopped ticking. Her fingers loosened, and the tribute fluttered from her hands like a sorrowful petal. Slowly, it fell on the ground together with the handkerchief. Her lips parted. And yet… No sound came. How was this possible? Anthony? The few seconds their eyes remained locked felt like an eternity, until the cameraman walked between them to reposition himself for a better shot. Just for a second. When Anna looked again... He was gone. "No..." Her voice barely escaped. She tried to move forward. Anthony. Where? Dizziness controlled her, and her knees weakened. People hurried toward her. "Anna!" "What happened?" "She's fainting!" "Get her some water." She closed her eyes, falling backward. Daniel quickly held her by the waist, catching her before she collapsed. "Anna!" She pushed gently against him as she regained her composure. Her eyes desperately swept through the sea of black-clothed mourners: from faces of strangers, to family members, and anyone she could look at. Everyone... except him. He was gone without a trace. "But he was here..." she whispered. No one understood what she meant, as their voices echoed around her. “Miss, … do you need a doctor?” “What’s wrong?” “Somebody, support her.” “I think she must be exhausted from grief.” The priest spoke softly, urging everyone to give her space. She heard none of it. Absentmindedly, her eyes searched the crowd again, and again, and again. Then she gulped. Only one thought remained. Did she thank… A dead man just now?

The Tribute