I walked home, and plopped onto the couch; all day, the accident had been looming in my head. Why? Because the anniversary of my mom’s death was coming up, and fast.

I put my head back and closed my eyes. I tried to rake up several memories from the back of my mind, but to no avail. Kazuma walked into the room, holding a bunch of papers.

“You have that look again,” he said critically, and sat down on a chair next to me.
“What look?” I asked with a sigh.
“The type you get when you’re trying to remember stuff—mostly about mom,” Kazuma reeled off, as if he had said this a thousand times. Which he had, not that it mattered…
“I am trying to remember; all I have is what you told me,” I growled. “But I do know that mom stepped out onto the road to…” I choked at this point, “To get my ball back.”

Kazuma’s head snapped away.

“Dad should have never told you that.”

“It’s a little bit late, don’t you think?” I asked. “He thinks it’s all my fault.”

And we fell into silence.