Spider-Man : The Story of a Hero

New York — Morning

At home, Gwen slowly woke up. She took a shower, brushed her teeth, then went downstairs to have breakfast with Aunt May. The atmosphere was particularly calm, and the two women exchanged very few words.

For Gwen, that silence could be explained by a mixture of many reasons, while May still seemed troubled by what had happened the previous evening.

Once she was ready, Gwen got dressed and left the house to walk alone through the streets of New York. Her phone in one hand, her earphones over her ears, she crossed part of the city on foot.

She remained silent, her expression closed off, with the look of someone deeply lost in thought... or who simply did not feel like talking to anyone.

And yet, despite the darkness gradually growing inside her, everything around her seemed so beautiful. The sun was slowly illuminating the city, passersby were walking, running, or making their way through the streets, and above all... they looked happy.

After all, it was summer vacation. Why would they be sad? A question that seemed so easy for those who were not living the same reality as the young blonde teenager.

As she continued walking, she stopped in front of a flower shop. Chrysanthemums, cyclamens, primroses, hyacinths, lavender, and dipladenias were carefully displayed there. Each of these plants was associated with a particular season, which influenced its flowering as well as its resistance to bad weather.

She observed them for a long time, hesitating in front of each variety. For several minutes, her gaze wandered over all the flowers arranged before her. Finally, her hand reached almost naturally toward the primroses. They came in several colors, but she chose several yellow flowers... exactly the same color as her hair.

After she paid, the florist carefully wrapped the bouquet in kraft paper before tying it with a thin ribbon. As she left the shop, Gwen held it slightly against herself. That simple gesture gave her a strange sense of comfort.

She then continued on her way through the streets of Manhattan.

After walking for a while, she took several buses that carried her across a large part of the city. Where exactly was she going? After a long journey spent in deep inner silence, she finally arrived in front of a cemetery.

The one where her father rested.

She slowly removed her earphones before walking between the many paths. She passed an impressive number of graves, some close to one another, others more isolated, until she reached the one she had come to see.

George Stacy’s grave.

Dozens and dozens of flowers had already been placed there. There were so many that some had even been placed behind the gravestone. They were all different, each carrying a particular message or reflecting the unique bond that the person who had placed the bouquet shared with George.

Her gaze fixed on the grave, Gwen remained motionless for several moments. It was as though she could not find the words to express what she was feeling. Then, after what felt like a long minute, she finally spoke in a soft voice.

— ”Sorry... I know you’re mad at me. After all, I haven’t come to see you since the funeral. But it’s just... I didn’t have the strength.”

Her face darkened slightly as she lowered her eyes. After a few moments, she quietly inhaled, slowly raised her head, and did her best to find a little courage in front of her father.

— ”You know, since you’ve been gone... a lot of things have really happened.”

She paused briefly before continuing, the memories of all those past months slowly resurfacing in her mind.

— ”When school started, I met Miles and Anya. Two teenagers slightly younger than me, whom I quickly became close to. They’re both really kind, even though they’re very different. Miles is a calm, polite boy, and even a little shy. Well... that’s at first. Once he feels comfortable, he sometimes lets loose, even though he always stays pretty calm. Anya, on the other hand... she’s a real wild one.”

A faint chuckle immediately escaped her as she thought of her.

— ”She’s the complete opposite of Miles. Instead of being calm and polite, she’s always ready to move and even fight whenever someone annoys her. And don’t even get me started on the insults...”

She let out a small amused sigh before continuing.

— ”Sometimes, I end up wondering how she manages to say so many. It’s like it comes naturally to her.”

Thinking back to certain scenes, she began to laugh softly, unable to hold it back for several long seconds. It was not a burst of laughter, but a sincere, light, and almost soothing laugh. Then, little by little, it faded, and her face slowly became serious again.

— ”But deep down... you can tell she’s a really gentle person. She can even be very polite when she wants to. It’s just that I think she prefers violence.”

Her memories then continued to unfold in her mind and, almost naturally, she resumed the thread of her story.

TO BE CONTINUED.