Ten years have passed since then.
Despite that, nothing different from this normal world has changed – People are born, and people die.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Everyone, even me, is nothing but irrelevant– Like a line that only endlessly extends. Reaching a certain distance only to realize that everything has to come to an end, with or without a point.
Running even though they know it very well it's an inevitable outcome.
A mere 'effort'.
A futile struggle.
A vain attempt.
"..."
How many times do I tend to rephrase the same idea over and over?
Until now, I don't understand myself...
"..."
North Cemetery, or the heroes' cemetery as they call it.
Standing in front of General... No. 'Former General' Roger with Mr. Aaron beside me while somewhat celebrating his fourth death anniversary by staring at his tombstone for hours.
I don't know either if you ask me why...
"Oh, look at the time," Mr. Aaron mumbled, looking at the wristwatch on his right arm. "I've got to go to the supermarket, we're running low on food."
"You mean 'you' are running low on food," I replied. "I don't eat."
"Oh right, sorry about that..." he laughed. "Would you like me to get you some oil then?"
"...That would be not necessary."
"All right, all right, enough jokes. I'll be going now."
"...Understood."
A joke...
Until now, I don't understand the essence of jokes...
"If you want to stay here then do so," he suggests, starting to walk away from me. "Go do a staring contest with your uncle right there if you want to."
"..."
How would I do that with someone who's six-feet underground?
"Almost forgot..." Before continuing, he stopped for a moment and looked at me with a bright smile while subtly waving his right arm goodbye at me. "I'll be going now, Rem."
"Understood," I replied, waving back at him too. "Take care, Mr. Aaron -"
"Hey, how many times do I have to tell you how to call me?"
I don't understand what difference it makes, but -
"...Take care, Mr. Dad." I still adjusted.
"Very good," he giggled, letting his right hand down. "It needs improvement though." He then faced forward and set off, walking in big slow strands of steps, humming exaggeratedly.
"..."
Though I often accidentally add 'Mr.' before it, I still can't get used to calling him 'Dad'. Well as long as it's an order, there's nothing I can do about it.
I think...
"..."
Staring at Former General Roger's tombstone once again, reading what was written on it on my head for the three-hundred sixty-three thousand four hundred twenty-seventh time now since his funeral four years ago this day.
I don't know if this counts as a 'staring contest', but are there any other choices? As if he could open his eyes and stare at mine if I would dig him up from there. In the first place, even If I did dig him up, normally he's nothing but mere pieces of bones now. How would I stare into a skeleton's non-existing eyeballs? Staring contest but with the use of eye sockets instead of eyeballs...
