I went to his grave today.
I brought donuts and a knife. I didn't say anything just sat there. Thinking that I too would just be a gravestone one day — how scary it was.
I carved the star signature that we named on the back of the grave.
I read his epitaph and cried.
'Reny Carter. A loving son.
At least I got to hold her hand.'
YOU ARE READING
The Property Of: Neena Eellante | ✓ |
Short Story❝ Neena Eellante ❞ - The last two words written by a girl with ratty blonde hair and tear stained, blue eyes. Words scratched fiercely into the spine of a leather book that held the story of a now, dead girl. - | a spin off of the character Neena Ee...
