Survivor’s Guilt
01.18.13
He walks across the cemetery as he has done every Saturday at noon for the last year, a rose in one hand and a bar of chocolate in the other. It is summer, and there is not a cloud in the sky. He feels the sun on his face and grimaces. It is not hot enough. Nothing is ever hot enough. He reaches the two graves and deposits the gifts he has brought – the rose for the woman, the chocolate for the boy – speaking their names as he does so. It is many months now since he last heard them speak back, but he intends to remedy this soon.
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