The first time I said ‘hello’ to her was the first time I met her.

I couldn’t believe that old lady Kim actually had children, let alone grandchildren. But I guess everyone reigns at some point.

I had been playing in the front yard while my mom was gardening. And it was then, a long black car came zooming out of nowhere into our quiet little neighborhood. It was the first time I had seen a long black car, and I distinctly remember thinking it was shiny.

My mom and I just watched as someone in a stiff black suit stepped out of the car and opened a door near the tail of the car.

I remember being very surprised, when I saw a little girl step out of the car.

I remember feeling very curious when she was escorted to old lady Kim’s house, along with a small suitcase.

“Umma, who is that?”

She didn’t know, of course. And of course, neither of us knew why the girl was left standing on old lady Kim’s porch while the car drove away.

But I could guess why the girl was crying.

That was also the day I had given her my yo-yo.

The second time I said ‘hello’ to her was when I went over to play with her.

The third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth were also spent when we went to play with each other.

The ninth time was when I saw her at school.

The rest of the times were used every morning - when we would wake each other up with the bell systems we had set up between our windows and talked through cups and string – and whenever we would meet up at school or outside.

She was ten when I found her in the nearby cemetery, sitting on a bench and crying. By then, I had lost count of how many times I had said ‘hello’. I held out a handkerchief, as if that would stop the sadness that accompanied the loss of her family.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said ‘goodbye’ when we parted.

Was it because I had closed the conversation, that she felt free to get up and leave?

I didn’t see her after that day.

My last ‘hello’ was the day I finally came back to my old neighborhood.

I ran to the nearby cemetery. It didn’t take long to find the tombstone with the name of my childhood friend and love etched on it.

My heart broke.

And I cried. Just holding on to her tombstone and crying for the girl I would never get to say ‘hello’ to again.

So I said it there. My last ‘hello’ to the person I had always loved.

“You know, just because it’s the same name, doesn’t mean it’s the same person, Mir.”

I never thought I would hear that voice again. Especially considering I just thought the owner of the voice was dead.

“Hello, idiot.” She saluted me with a smile.

500 words