Great. I sighed as the bag holding my leaves broke, holding the weight of too much stuff until it just collapsed. Time to start again, I told myself, but made no move to actually scrape up the junk.
       I sat my rake against a tree and sat. This graveyard work was getting boring. Of course, getting to see Hannah was anything but boring, but I had to wait around three hours each day for her to get here. And really all I did was wander around. Dad told me I should really stop pretending to scrape leaves and go do something valuable with my time. It was pretty much more clear than ever that I was in the volunteer work just so I could see a girl each day.
      As soon as I heard footsteps I knew she was here. I looked up, a goofy grin on my face, and Hannah looked back at me with the same expression.
      "Look what I brought!" she exclaimed with childish glee, raising a large case. When she saw my eyebrows raise, she began to impatiently unzip it and pull out a ukelele. The hippie instrument of all hippie instruments.
     She strummed it a couple of times. Now, don't get me wrong, Hannah can make anything sound beautiful, but I had never really cared much for the sound of a uke. It was just a little too... I don't know, it was a little bit different than usual, is what I guess is what I'm saying.
      "I love this thing," she sighed, her eyes rolling back. "Haven't used it in forever. Thought I'd bring it out. I've been using my dad's, but he found this one from a while back. Still works fine, and now has vintage charm,"
I guess I didn't look excited enough, because she frowned at my expression, her eyebrows furrowed.
     "Have you ever heard good ukelele music?" she asked me suspiciously, as if it were a crime if I tried to fake my enthusiasm.
      "I've heard ukelele music," I shrugged.
     "That's not the same," Hannah gasped, grabbing her phone. She typed in something on google faster than I could count and pulled up a video, stuffing it in my face. I grabbed it and held it at a reasonable width where both Hannah and I could see it.
      "Tyler Joseph's ukelele cover of Can't Help Falling in Love. It's gorgeous," she sighed. I tried hard to listen in, but honestly my mind was elsewhere. Like the fact that Hannah was practically leaning on me, her head on my shoulder as she looked at the screen. I tried not to seem too tense, but it was hard to get over the fact hat she was there, and my shoulder was kind of melting off in the spot where her face was. Hannah was all smiles, her eyes closed as she took in the music.
      She even sang along, and had a soft, whispering voice that made me wonder why she was here with me laying her head on my shoulder when she could be with some supermodel guy who appreciated the things that she did.
       It finished with a flourish of the strings, and Hannah sat up, looking at me with her hazel eyes, which were glowing and burning into mine.
      "What did you think?" she asked. My first instinct was to impress her with a long, distinct paragraph about the meaning of life. But I settled it aside, and kept shifting my gaze from her phone to her eyes.
       "It was great," I whispered, because while I might not have really listened all that well to the music, I saw Hannah's glowing bliss. That was music in itself, if you ask me.
       She picked up her ukelele and passed it to me. I let it fall in my lap, not sure what she was doing.
     "Pick it up," she said, but not harsh. Rather persuasive, in fact. I picked it up and held it awkwardly, looking at Hannah for answers.
      "I want you to learn this song," she said, "I know it, but I want to teach you, so I can hear you sing it to me. That would be amazing," she pleaded, and I knew I couldn't say no. The only problem was, I hadn't exactly heard the song right.
     "I'll play it again, and just sing along to it. It'll give you an idea of the way the song flows," she said softly. "Trust me. I've taught more than one person this instrument. I worked music at a VBS one time," she laughed.
      I smiled, and she played the song again. This time, I listened better, and it helped that the song was shorter. I could focus on it longer. I tried to match my voice with Hannah's, but it was obvious she knew the song by heart. Maybe someday I could make her happy with a remembrance of this particular song by heart. Maybe she would feel that kind of unmatchable happiness when I played for her, and I could bask in more than the song.       
       That's when I realized what Hannah resembled the most. She was light, pure and always wanted. The one that covers all corners and opens eyes, giving that kind of warm glow that nothing else can give, and for some reason is so much more complex than when we first see it. And light loved her as well. It clung to her eyelashes and hair, and followed her wherever she went.