My father wasn’t the man I remembered. His ebony hair was streaked with silver hairs, and his face was more chiseled than ever. I felt a slight shiver run down my spine when my eyes locked with his.

He and his absolutely venomous wife glided past me, not even greeting me.

On the other hand, Kazuma received a hearty back-slap, which earned my father an incredulous stare.

“Kazuma…how have you been, son?” he asked, a slight smile on his face.

What do you want? a voice asked, relentless in my mind. Why was he being so nice?

Kazuma gave a polite answer, and linked arms with me. We proceeded into the cemetery; the tension was so thick I could have offered you a piece if I had had a knife.

We stopped by my mother’s grave, and all the memories came crashing down on me.

Again.