The sound of the winds brings chills to my body. The rustling of the grass is soothing, though. The sun is high, the skies are gorgeous, and the place is peaceful. I walk towards the grave of my wife. I put down the flowers I bought. I notice a girl, about 10 years of age, beside my wife’s grave. I peek at where she’s standing. Three gravestones.
“Your family?” I can’t help, but to ask. She turns to me and nods. My brows furrow.
“Sorry to ask, but who’s taking care of you?” She must have a guardian, in this case.
She smiles at me and shrugs. “I have myself, Mister.” She says.