The alarm wasn't supposed to go off yet. That’s what Sophie told herself as she rolled onto her stomach thwacked her hand around her side table, knocking off her phone. Swearing, she lifted her body just far enough to look down and deftly flick the little toggle away. But the sun was already streaming into her room, filling it with gold and warmth and daylight.

The sun wasn’t supposed to be up yet. Because that meant it was today, and yesterday was yesterday, and she would have to do everything she had to do today, suffer through every moment of it, until she could finally collapse back into bed, flip off the sun as it mocked her from the horizon, and let her covers swallow her until the sun returned mercilessly for her the next day.

Today was not supposed to be today yet. She told herself this as she stumbled down the hall to her bathroom, brushed her teeth, spat blood in the sink. You need to smoke less, chook, Amy had said to Sophie, taking a long drag, smile full of light in the crowded dark bar. Sophie shook the memory loose and brushed through her hair, scraping her scalp raw til the strands stood straight and unentwined.

The hour wasn’t supposed to be here yet. She thought this as she pulled on the black dress, one she would’ve stolen on one of their cocktail nights out. She slipped on her heels, ones Amy would’ve whistled at, look who scrubs up well! She slipped in the earrings Amy had bought her for her twenty third birthday, ones Sophie knew she couldn’t afford but bought after Sophie had lost her job and her long suffering boyfriend.

Because Amy wasn’t supposed to be gone yet. Sophie told herself this as she drove to the church, the local one they had walked past a thousand times growing up, never giving it a second look. They hadn’t been religious, but Amy’s grandparents had, and she’d been christened there. They were doing it there for her grandparents. A place she’d barely been in aside from a few Christmas masses.

It should’ve been done in the creek, where they’d collected little rocks and poked frogs with sticks. It should’ve been done on the couch, where they’d watched countless movies on Amy’s beat up laptop, hollering at stupid jokes and mockery of whoever was the heartthrob at the time. It should’ve been done in Sophie’s bed, where they’d pinky promised they’d tell each other everything, where Sophie had admitted she got hair on her nipples and Amy had laughed so hard she’d choked and gone red. It should’ve been at the local gas station, where they’d bought countless snacks, laughed as they’d filled up the tank and planned the whole word against them. It should’ve been two streets down from Harry Decking’s house, where they’d screamed drunk at each other over some fight, some misfired word that had set the other one off. It should’ve been in Sophie’s beat up car, where they’d played music as they apologised and hugged and promised to never fight again, even if Sophie DID have hairy nipples. Hell, it should’ve been in the dingy bar where they’d danced on the tables after three tequila shots, or on the steps where they’d been thrown out afterwards.

Anywhere but here.

‘It wasn’t supposed to be here.’ The words sat with her in the empty car. She looked out into the beautiful, sunny day, and opened the door.

She stepped amongst the sea of black. She greeted Amy’s parents, who hugged her, told her how much Amy loved her. She sat down in the front row. Her mum had once told her it was the greatest privilege and horror to be in the front row. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not yet.

The service meandered, and Sophie stood, and sat down, and stood, and sung the hymn, and sat down. And then the moment came.

It was not supposed to be the moment yet.

Sophie walked up to the podium and stared at the faces. They stared at her. Each one had known Amy. Each one had their version of the creek, the bed, the gas station, the car. Ones Sophie would never know. A hundred Amy’s she’d never meet.

She was supposed to start. That didn’t mean she wanted to. She took a breath in.

‘Amy…’

Oh, Amy.

‘Amy was my best friend.’

You should smoke less, chook.

‘Amy was my sister. She was funny, and smart, and loyal, and accepting. She…’

I can’t believe you have hairy nipples! Oh, my god, I have to see them.

‘She had such a life full of achievements…’

You are such a cheapskate only putting twenty dollars in your tank. C’mon, Soph! I actually want to make it to this party.

‘But she was meant to have more time.’

I can’t believe you fucking said that in front of everyone! Do you get off on undermining me? You’re supposed to be my best fucking friend!

‘We were meant to have more time.’

I’m sorry, and I love you. I didn’t mean what I said. You’re my best friend, chook. Even if you do have hairy nipples.

‘She was the best thing about getting up in the morning. I would wake up every morning and she would’ve texted me something silly, or sent me a stupid meme.’

C’mon Soph! What are they going to do? Kick us out? Live a little!

‘She was the best part of every day. The best part of my day. Even if we fought. Even if we did nothing. She was supposed to be around forever.’

You’re supposed to be here. Amy, where are you?

‘We were supposed to do life together.’

Amy, you’re not supposed to be gone. It’s fucking unfair. How the fuck am I supposed to sum you up to a hundred strangers? How do I sum up a life? How do I sum up all we were to each other when it’s just a collection of all these little moments only I can remember? What the fuck am I supposed to do?

She stepped off the podium. Amy’s dad patted her shoulder when she sat next to him. She stood up, sat down. Then finally they all stood up to exist the church, and filter to the bar across the road.

She’d done it. It was over. Whenever it was horrible or great, touching or vague, she didn’t care. She’d done her part, the horrible task of honouring someone in a way that was impossible. Now she had to face what stretched in front of her like a sunbathing cat: a life without Amy.

She drank the vodka tonic until she was adequately tipsy to not feel bad about leaving the wake early. And then she walked. She walked to the creek. She walked to the gas station. She walked to the bar. She walked past Amy’s house, past her own. She walked until the sun finally went down, and had the feeling she’d be walking her whole life and seeing Amy everywhere.

She walked into her bed, fully dressed. She turned to flip off the setting sun, as promised. She wrapped herself in her covers, and barely felt it as she fell asleep. The dream started again, the one she looked forward to every night.

Do you pinky promise to tell me everything?

Of course. Always.

You can’t break promises.

I know. I couldn’t break it if I tried.

You’re supposed to wrap your pinky like this-

I miss you.

I’m right here though.

You’re not. You’re supposed to be here.

I know. I’m sorry. I couldn’t make it. Guess I didn’t get the invite.

It’s not funny. What am I meant to do without you?

You’re still here. You got the invite. Live a little, chook. Live for me.

The alarm was supposed to go off. It was a new day. Sophie would walk again, without Amy. It would be agony. How lucky she was to know the agony and be invited to feel it all. She supposed that, in the end, that was all she could do. Wake up to the alarm, greet the sun, and find a way to see Amy every day.