Paris

27

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Nino's P.O.V

   I knocked on the door, holding a few dandelions in my other hand. Mrs. Cesaire opens the door and greets me with a kind smile.

   "Nino, dear. It is good to see you," she said. Before I could get a word in, tiny footsteps quickly ran past the woman and a small body barreled into me.

   "Older brother! You have finally come to visit! I missed you!" Chris exclaimed, nuzzling his head against my stomach. I affectionately ruffle the six-year-old's hair. It has been a little over a week since I visited Chris and Alya's family.

   "I missed you too," I replied, wholeheartedly, "Did you pick your flowers?"

   "Yeah! I will go get them! I shall be right back!" he said before scampering back into the small home.

   "It has been a while. Has it not?" Mrs. Cesaire questioned, "I do not mean to be bitter, especially today of all days. Yet, your visits have grown less frequent."

   "I have been very busy with work and Alya. I am trying to visit as much as my schedule allows me to," I admit, scratching the back of my neck. Mrs. Cesaire nods understandingly.

She had taken in Chris once Alya and I started living together. I could barely get enough food for Chris and me to eat. Adding Alya into our small family had taken its toll. I could no longer provide for everyone. Luckily, Mrs. Cesaire graciously offered to take Chris under her wing.

I promised to visit Chris as much as I could and continue our tradition that began four years ago...

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   "Jasmine! We have returned from picking flowers!" I called out to my eldest sister, setting down my two-year-old brother, Christopher (or Chris for short).

Jasmine turned away from the stew for a moment and smiled at us.

"Did little Chris pick out some beautiful flowers?" she asked, sweetly. Chris waddled his way over to the older woman and presented her the flowers he picked.

"Those are the loveliest flowers I have ever seen. You did a marvelous job! I am sure mother and father will really like them," Jasmine complimented. Chris gave her the biggest toothy smile a two-year-old could. She picked Chris up and placed him on her lap.

"Where are my compliments? He was not the only one who labored over picking those dandelions," I joked.

"You did very well too," she teased, "Alright, supper is ready."

After we ate, the three of us left our hut with the flowers. We walked through the poor section until standing in front of a sign on the outskirts of the city.

   The Unforgotten Cemetery.

   Not just any cemetery, these were victims of a treacherous plague that happened a year ago. Unfortunately, two of the victims were our parents.

Jasmine has been working endlessly for our survival. Even I had taken a job to help earn some money. It has just been us three for an entire year. Two teenagers and a toddler.

We approached two rocks with our parents' names carved out in them. We stood silently in front of the graves, remembering our tragic loss that happened a year ago today. Jasmine suggested we start a tradition of bringing flowers to our parents every year on this day.

   Chris placed the dandelions on both graves before quickly returning to our sister. She immediately picked him up and held him close. She rubbed soothing circles on his back as a way of comfort.