Her hands tremble, running through her hair in an anxious gesture. The alien four walls around her seem to be pressing closer the longer she stays here; compressing all of the echos of words, all of her stray thoughts, all of her fear into her tiny little bubble.

Her icy calm exterior begins to crack where the warmth of little fingertips traces. The signs of it melting trickle down her face in tiny salt water streams.

His wide blue eyes stare up at her, his hands the size of her pointer finger reaching out for her face. She kisses him on his forehead... pulling back in time to see his eyes close and feel his hand flop back to his body, limp.

She awakes in bed, the clock reads 2AM, and a different pair of blue eyes looks at her with concern as she stands up, knowing there will be no more sleep tonight.

She drives out to the grave and places yet another yellow flower on the stone, reading the name and dates she knows by heart:

Bradley Lawrence
Jan. 2, 2013 - Oct. 28, 2014
A beloved son and younger brother.