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The door creaked open. Tankman John, who was sitting on the old wooden floor of their home shot up, grinning as he saw his son come back from school.
Pico was his son. He adopted him when he was a baby. Pico meant the world to him.
The ginger ran up to his dad, giving him a big hug. He grinned a toothy grin, saying how he missed him. John quietly smiled, embracing him in a tight hug.
"How was your day, Pico?" John asked, the two of them going to sit on the couch.
"Good! Me and Keith were hanging out during free period! He's such a good friend! And we learned about something interesting in English class but then something funny happened! I forgot what it was, but man, today was a great day! And Im home with you now, and that's all that really matters! You're the best dad anyone could ever ask for!"
"Aww pico!" John beemed, his stomach churning, sweat beading on his forehead. "I got you a gift, Pico! Since you did so good on the test you took yesterday!"
Picos voice echoed, and he exclaimed, "A gift? For me?"
A beautiful bouquet of flowers appeared in his hand, and he held them out to the ginger. Picos eyes lit up, and he gushed, "they're beautiful! Oh dad, you got my favorite flowers! they're lovely... but dad... please, stop it. It happened 20 years ago. You need to let it go. You need to let it go. You can't keep hanging on to what is dead and gone."
John sobbed, his head laying against the grass in front of his son's grave. He was on his knees, clutching the bouquet in his hands, squishing the fragile stems. The rain drenched his dark hair, making it stick to his face.
"Happy birthday, Son... I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. I love you."
And the rain kept on pouring.