“Maybe a small remembrance for students who died before finishing school. Not just my brother. Other people, too.”
William nodded slowly.
“That sounds like something we should discuss.”
“And maybe let the students who knew them share stories. Not just sad ones.”
He smiled faintly.
“I think Felix would have approved of that.”
Emma’s eyes softened.
“He would have complained about the speech being too long.”
William laughed.
“I believe that.”
Then Emma added, “I wish you’d listened before today.”
William didn’t defend himself.
“So do I,” he said.
That evening, after we returned home, Emma placed her diploma on the kitchen table.
Felix’s cardboard figure stood beside it.
The house was quiet. The blue graduation cap had slipped slightly to one side, and the afternoon sunlight coming through the window illuminated his printed smile.
Emma stared at the two objects for a long time.
Then she began to cry.
