It hit her on a fine sunny afternoon that he was dead.

She had been in such a denial for so many years, shaking her head, refusing to believe the car accident had really stopped his life. It was impossible; he was Ash Ketchum. He couldn't, couldn't die from such a small thing as that.

She had sleep-walked through life, waiting at the Cerulean City door, whether it be raining or storming, for the brown-eyed boy to greet her with his cheerful smile. All her friends and family worried about her, but she waved them off, saying 'What're you worried about? Once Ash comes back, everything will be better!' and they would look at her pityingly, like they knew something she didn't.

She stayed in that frozen, painful desire for years. She never really could believe that he was dead. She didn't go to his funeral. She didn't accept that he was buried in that graveyard near Pallet. She insisted he was alive, hiding out, just waiting to come back and say 'Ha! You guys thought I was dead?'

And then, Misty could proudly say that she was the only one that had had faith, and he would love her forever, embracing her and kissing her. That belief led her on her life, like a psycho, someone crazy or mentally ill – but all she wanted was her Ash to come back, and in her mind, he was still alive and prospering.

But hope is eventually abandoned, like the toys you played as a kid were abandoned and thrown out. Misty had been walking, spiritedly, outside the shopping centre in Cerulean. She looked happy, a smile on her face, but her eyes were green and sharp, turning everywhere for Ash.

He was to come back eventually. She kept believing.

Her world crashed down in a peculiar way. She had looked up at the bright blue sky, the same sky she had seen with him before, and had felt comforted. Then, a long, beautiful Pidgeotto had flown across with silk wings.

And at that moment, on a fine sunny afternoon, it hit her that he was dead.