I stopped and thought, and honestly I didn't know what to say.
The one silly conclusion hanging in my mind was if there is so much of death, then it must be good!
But then what is good? What is the Good?
I looked at it.
Something small, shining and orange, without any stable shape.
Something as innocent as probably I was a long time ago...
Or was I still?
Otherwise it couldn't get to me at all...
I took the Good and put it on the table.
It was looking at me with its pure blue eyes and waiting.
I don't know what happened to my voice because I whispered:
- You are right friend, but I don't really understand it.
- Why don't you understand?
- Why? - I turned around, - nobody understands.
- Hm, - the Good stopped talking.

It kept silent till noon.
And it got confused when I invited it for lunch.
It started to ask me the questions again.
A funny and curious little one which was itself a proof that anything good cannot be bigger than this my odd orange friend.
So, I realized that it didn't need food.
- Why do you eat? - the Good queried, - for what?
- Well, everybody has to eat to be alive.
- What is alive?
- Mmm, alive is not dead... - I wished I didn't say it.
- The death... again death... death, - the Good was repeating this word being climbing on the cabinet.

- Hey little one! Come down! - I called it when I finished lunch but it was silent, - ok, as you wish!
It stayed there till the end of the day.
I called it a few more times and then left it alone.

The Good woke me in the morning:
- You know, the stars sometimes also didn't understand me, but they used to say why. When the sun threw me to the space, the stars were so glad that they finally had somebody to talk to... you know, they are very talkative! You can't imagine how easily they get bored if they have to keep quiet for a few minutes. Ah, so they were so happy to have me. But since that moment I was thrown to the space, the sun became white. And it will be white forever. It was already too tired.
I suddenly figured out that the bright orange colour of my friend had become paler.
- What's wrong with you? - I asked, but it didn't answer.

It was getting lighter and lighter day after day.
I didn't hear its clear and infectious laughter anymore.
The Good was getting more and more quiet and passive.
Then I realized that it was sick.
I didn't know how to treat it, I have never treated the Good.

I left it on the shelf and went to the pharmacy for some advice in this strange situation.
When I came back, I didn't find the light-orange blemish among the books.
The window was opened and there was a mark on the windowsill.
I realized that the Good had flown away.
Perhaps, the stars were calling for it.


To be continued...