After the evening Hannah and I had spent together with her uke, I had gotten home to stick yet another sticky note quote on my wall.

No one else is dealing with your demons, meaning maybe defeating them could be the beginning of your meaning, friend.

I almost smiled at the collection I had going on. Hannah had the strangest way of staying remembered by someone in a way that made you want to remember them so badly that you had something practically dedicated to them. By putting these sticky note quotes on my wall, I had practically dedicated it to her. Funny how things work like that.
It seemed almost tradition to get one of the sticky notes each day. I had almost twelve covering my wall, and more to come. Hannah and I just continued to hang out each day in the mornings, and no one had complained so far.
Ukelele lessons were not going so good. I tried to strum the way she wanted me to and get the chords right, but I'd pause for too long or forget whole phrases of the song. I guess I'd only really been doing lessons for a week now, but I still felt way behind. Hannah hardly got frustrated, she simply worked out the problems slowly and continued to encourage me to let the instrument flow.
      Earlier in the week Hannah had asked we meet somewhere other than the cemetery, which surprised me. Not because it was totally strange or unacceptable, but because I had never really thought about how much time we had spent in one place. Now I had begun to realize that after all this time we had spent together, I had never once even considered asking her to go somewhere else. It seemed too much like a date, which was something I didn't have the boldness to suggest.
Who could ask Hannah out? It was like claiming her. She was always happier when she was free, and meaning something to her might trap her.
I grabbed Hannah's book bag she had given to me the other morning.

"Have you ever watched Your Lie In April?" Hannah asked. I looked at her chipped fingernail paint as I answered. "No."
"It's time you started. Take this," she tossed her book bag over my shoulders, and I grasped it in surprise. "Watch the show. It's on Netflix. Don't tell me you don't have Netflix, Leo Clarence."
"Um, I do, I guess,"
"Good! Take that, go home, and watch a whole season of Your Lie In April. Take notes on everything you like about it. I have an empty notebook in there and a pen," Hannah chirped, looking as if there wasn't a thing she needed to explain.
"Wait...why?" I asked, still clutching the butterfly fabric bag wearily.
"Because I doubt you have a diary to write in. And, there's some pretty important stuff in that show. It would be good for you to actually watch something important."
"Important?"
"YES! It's so great! No more questions! Go, and meet me at Lily Place Coffee!"
"Whe-" I asked.
"LOOK IT UP!" she yelled at me as she ran past me, turning down nearby street. I huffed as she went, looking down at the girly bag.

And I had watched the whole season of Your Lie In April. I watched it and took at least four pages of notes on it to show I was listening. If that's not dedication, I don't know what is.
The only problem was that I didn't like it. It was so depressing to watch, and unsettling. Maybe because Hannah reminded me so much of Kaori.
Kaori was one of the main protagonists. A violinist. Free-spirited. Temperamental. Impossibly beautiful. And in the end she's broken down by terminal illness. I don't want to think of that in association with Hannah.
    It's hard for me to think of Hannah watching such a show. This girl watching something so sad and heartbreaking? Then again, I couldn't always guess what was on her mind. She was sad one day and overly happy the other. Sometimes she was in between. Hannah was pretty much every personality I'd ever seen. There was no stereotyping this girl.
And even as I opened the squeaking door to the place, I knew her voice right off. Terrible, but lively. She was singing in front of everyone, on a small platform that looked like a cheap excuse for a stage. Hannah had the microphone too close to her lips, causing the sound to boom across the whole place. But you could only barely hear her over the rest of the noise. Everyone was up in the front of the stage, clapping cheerfully and singing at the top of their lungs. I laughed out loud at the sight, amazed. She had gotten everyone out of their chairs without a single complaint, and a surreal kind of bliss had filled every inch of the place. I sat, one hand clutched on the door handle, and smiled goofily, catching her eye. She smiled back, but almost mischievously.
Suddenly her voice had stopped along with her ukelele, and she stared me down. "Hey, Leo! Come on!"
I shook my head at her and threatened to open the door and walk out, my eyes wide. But she was smarter, and she jumped down from the stage, pulling me back onto it.
"Leo's gonna sing us a song tonight!" She cheered, and the crowd looked at me expectantly. I whispered something she didn't catch, and she passed me the ukelele.
"Do Can't Help Falling In Love," she whispered, nodding.
"No, are you crazy? I don't know the chords!"
"Fine," she shifted in her seat and grabbed the small instrument. "Then I'm gonna play it and you're gonna sing it."