It all comes down to this. The last note. The fifteenth note in the box. I was born on the fifteenth of August. I will die on the fifteenth of March. My last note is note number fifteen. This was planned. This was perfected. These facts settle my soul slightly, I don't know why, but they do. I love you so much, you were my one reason for staying. But sadly the cons overweighed the pros. You were my only pro Wilma. You were my only pro.
I look back down at the empty shoebox. I let out a deep breath and begin packing the notes up again. I will never be whole without my brother here, but it helps me to know he wanted this. He needed this. I sob into my hands, letting everything out. I was his only pro in his world of cons. He was ready.
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This is it, the end of The Funeral. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you liked reading it! Comment, vote and Check out my other stories! I really hope you liked this story!
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The Funeral
Teen FictionMy brother committed suicide. At his funeral I didn't cry, I even left early. I did this because my brother already had a funeral. And he was there for it, and he was alive. He was holding my hand. We buried an empty shoe box, it symbolized his...
