[center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjE1OC4wY2RjN2QuVm1sdUlFUmhkbWxsY3cuMA/brave-heart.regular.png[/img] [img]https://thumbs.gfycat.com/BriskIdealisticBeaver-small.gif[/img][/center] There was a soft clack as wheels hit the pavement, followed by the steady rolling sound as the skateboard swerved down the street. Vin found comfort in these sounds and preferred the old skateboard as his main form of transportation. It was reassuring, something he’d had since he was a little kid when everything was simple. He didn’t feel ready to trade it in for a car, another change that would only pull him farther away from the times when he had been truly happy. Some people kept a blanket or stuffed animal, but Vin had a battered old skateboard that made soothing noises. He didn’t tell people that. Vin only ever pointed out that it was better for the environment and loads cheaper. He had a backpack with everything he needed and he carried with him a bunch of yellow sunflowers. Allison had liked yellow, he remembered that. Once he arrived at the gates of the cemetery, he carried the skateboard the rest of the way. It didn’t feel right to ride it around inside. The cemetery was quiet, not the sort of place that welcomed intrusive noises even if he did find them comforting. He came here once a month. At first, his parents had come too, even after their divorce when they couldn’t even stand to be in the same room together. Then, for a while, his mom occasionally came with him. And now, it was only him. He’d read somewhere that people weren’t really gone as long as someone remembered them. So, he did his best to remember, and he’d only ever missed a single month at the beginning of his senior year. And that wasn’t his fault; he’d been shot, and he figured Allison would get that, she’d been an understanding person. Some people deserved remembering, and others were better forgotten. He didn’t mind the quiet walk through the cemetery; it was peaceful and always more or less the same. What occurred to him was just how many people he’d known who now rested here. Too many for any nineteen-year-old. And he had no control over it, who left and who stayed, but he could do this. So once a month he went to Allison’s grave and kept the headstone clean. Made sure it looked nice, took care of the weeds, and left fresh sunflowers. They hadn’t been exceptionally close; he talked to her now more than he ever had when she was alive. Vin regretted that, and all the slammed doors, arguments over music choice on family road trips, and the casual teasing that came with having a sibling. He wished he remembered more than just the shallow things, things like yellow flowers and someone who had been there to help and listen. But he didn’t, he could recall so few things about his sister that made someone a complete person. Once everything looked right, Vin sat down in the grass with his back against the side of the clean granite stone. Part of his monthly ritual involved keeping her updated on everything; him, their parents, and any town gossip he’d manage to catch. He figured she’d appreciate that, even though he knew that he was just talking to a headstone. Maybe he did it because this was cheaper and easier than therapy, but this was someplace he felt like he could say whatever was on his mind. [color=0BF091]“So I guess mom’s doing alright. Wants me to have dinner with her and some guy named Doug. I guess I should go, it’d make her happy. I really don’t want to, it’s gonna be so awkward.”[/color] He paused and gazed intently at the grass. If he didn’t go, it would keep being brought up, and he didn’t have enough going on to pretend like he was too busy. [color=0BF091]“And dad, he’s always busy with something, you know how he is. I had lunch with him last week. He mostly talked about golf and everything he learned at that dental conference he went to. It wasn’t so bad, he didn’t bring up college or anything. Oh, and I got free shrimp, so that was cool.”[/color] Vin couldn’t remember if his sister liked shrimp, and both his parents hated when he asked questions like that. It made them too sad, he could tell, so he stopped asking them. He described the restaurant though, it was nice, fancier than anything he could afford, and he was pretty sure she had liked fancy restaurants. He talked about what he’d seen on his hike a couple of days ago and about the movie he watched the other night. Eventually, he ran out of things to talk about. He knew only a little of the town gossip; he had less and less to share ever since high school ended. Vin didn’t mention the pages from Decker’s journals that people had been getting; he didn’t want to think about that. Vin hadn’t look at them, didn’t feel the need to know what was going on in the head of someone like that. So after he’d finished talking, he stood up and put a hand on the headstone. [color=0BF091]“I’m sorry, you know, that I wasn’t a better brother.”[/color] He had always had an older sister looking out for him when he was a kid, Vin wished he’d been able to return that favor. He pushed forward and continued walking through the rows of headstones back towards the gates.