Him and I make our way down the streets of the city. You would like our new apartment. More room for plants and maybe a dog.
We approach the rows of decorated stone, flowers placed haphazardly on so many of the graves. We would never do that to you. Only the best for our baby. I tucked the peonies from my bag into the vase right above your name.
It's a beautiful grave site, really. I'm glad the city offered to pay extra for you to be placed under a willow tree. I know those were your favorite. And it was a shame they couldn't do more for your family.
Your parents feel so much unease. I wish him and I could offer them some peace. But they wouldn't understand. They wouldn't see what we saw. You were too special to share. We needed you.
———
He walks home in silence next to me. I can tell he's upset. He cared for you more than the others.
"Guess what?" I tease along his ear.
His interest is peaked, as I suspected. I pull the newspaper from my bag and show him the front page. There, a beautiful girl holds a trophy for spelling bee champion. Only 16 years old, perfectly innocent.
He smiles and kisses my cheek.
Look at that, a new you.
