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Seasons of Death

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1993, New York
A young man stood alone in front of a couple of tombstones in the middle of a cemetery. He couldn’t have been more than 25 and he looked like a hospital intern.
“Um...hello again. Another year...everyone is ok. I got my internship at Charlotte’s hospital, which is great, except when I make a mistake. She’s there to scold me as if I was twelve again.” He spoke as he only showed up there once a year, even he went by at least once every two months. However, today another year have gone by since one of the men buried in front of him died, and one more since the other one did.
“Mom and I had an argument, but Mendel was able to make peace...she was just worried when I told her that I didn’t only like…”
Another voice interrupted him.

“First year anniversary...hi Angel, it’s me, Mark. I know everyone has already came but...I wanted to have this mixtape ready before visiting. It has all the songs I included in my documentary. Well, more like our documentary...it just talks about all of us; people seem to like it.”
Music started.

“Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear.
five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure,
Measure a year?”

The music moved him as he couldn’t help but thinking about his own father, who spent almost every second of his last year of life counting how long until he reunited with his lover as he got more and more sick (no one still understood how he had lasted for so long).

“In daylights?
In sunsets?
In midnights?
In cups of coffee?
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?
In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure a year in a life?”

He couldn’t resist it, Jason approached.
He was surprised when he recognised the man, even though he didn’t knew him personally: he was one of Charlotte’s niece friends. What was her name...Joanne? He me them once, about a year ago, when they were at the hospital with a friend that, sadly, didn’t make it.
The other young man realised he wasn’t alone anymore and looked a little bit uncomfortable.
He was cute, Jason thought. A ginger wearing a way too long scarf and with an awkward look in his eyes.
“Hello...the song...it is...beautiful. It reminded me of someone...someone I miss a lot. I didn’t know if you remember me. I am…”
“Jason, Joanne’s aunt protegée. You wanted to study HIV, right?”
“Yeah, some people I really care about were taken away because of it.”
“Same here. And some alive, well, could be the next ones...Ok, this is going to sound crazy but...if you happen to have some breakthrough...could I make a documentary about it?”
“It’s sounds...better than chess.”
“That’s an odd compliment.” He laughed softly at the remark and found himself scared of how similar to his father he sounded (even he knew he should be accustomed to it, as everyone has been telling him since, like, forever; he was just a not-so-little-already Marvin).
“I guess.”
They shook hands in agreement.
'This could be the beginning of a great friendship.'
Both thought to themselves, as the music continued.

“How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love...
Seasons of love (love)...
Seasons of love (love)...”