The sun hung low over the dimly lit sky, its hues muted by the somber air shining as black-clad figures stood motionless with their shadows stretching over the freshly dug graves beside them. The faint smell of earth mixed with newly scattered flowers lingered in the air creates a heavy yet melancholic atmosphere.
Among the crowd, a rough looking man stood apart with his gaze dull like a distant star, while scanning the faces of people around him. Tear-streaked cheeks, trembling shoulders, and downcast eyes met his detached observation. After summarizing the atmosphere with a slight adjustment of his posture, he relaxed his lips, pressed them into a thin line, and lowered his head in imitation of the grieving figures around.
"I am sorry for being a bad son, father and mother." He murmured, his voice slow and quiet. "I hope you live peacefully in heaven above."
As the words left his lips, he stepped back, blending into the dispersing crowd. The charade slipped from his face, replaced by his usual impassive expression. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a worn photograph. Two young boys, one with jet-black hair and the other with soft brown curls, stood beneath a starlit sky, a telescope between them. A familiar figure crossed his face before he folded the photo and tucked it away.
A familiar voice broke his thoughts. "As usual, aren't you, Ernest?"
Ernest looked up to find his brother, Paul, standing before him, his face flushed with anger.
"Not a single tear," Paul had spat once. "Even for our parents. Emotionless, like always."
Ernest said nothing, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Paul scoffed and stormed off, leaving Ernest alone by the gravesite. He clenched his fists, not in anger but in the hollow recognition that he should feel something—anything—but the weight of grief and sadness eluded him.
One month later,
Ernest sat before a dimly lit monitor, his eyes fixed on two notifications reflecting to his eyes.
The first was from his corporation: a finalized date for the presentation of a survey on the living conditions of rural farmers—a project he'd poured months into.
The second was a message from his brother, after weeks of silence his brother reached out only to remind him of the commemoration of their parents' death. He had already had an answer beforehand, so he quickly replied to his brother's message.
=========== Phone Text =============
Paul : Don't forget that tomorrow marks one month since our parents' funeral.
Paul : If you don't come up, I swear I'll pummel you to the ground the next time we met.
Ernest : …
Ernest : Sorry, but I have an important presentation tomorrow. It's important for my career.
Ernest : I'll send the money for your education as always.
Ernest : Don't worry, I plan to visit the gravesite after.
Paul : HEY ! LISTEN TO ME FOR A SEC !
Paul : Typing. ….
================================
He muted his brother's contact and closed the chat, shifting his focus to the slide presentation he had finished earlier. "Huft... I'll just apologize to him later," he muttered under his breath. "Time to prepare for tomorrow." His eyes locked onto the monitor, his attention seemingly detached from the world around him.
After a while, the strain on his eyes forced him to look away. Glancing at the clock, he noticed it was already at 1 AM. In order to be fully energized for the morning, he shut down his computer, set his alarm for 4:30 AM, and tossed himself onto the bed. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes.
The presentation was a success. Dropped from the taxi, Ernest arrived in front of the gravesite, glancing at his smartphone to see that it was already 8 PM. As he approaches the gate he is met by an imposing figure leaning against the gravesite-fences, it was Paul waiting for him.
Paul's cold eyes glared under the dim moonlight. Without a word, Paul stepped forward, his fists clenched to grab Ernest's collar.
"You're late," Paul growled, his voice shaking with suppressed emotion. "Do you even care? Or is this just another obligation to tick off your list?"
Ernest sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I had work—"
"Work?" Paul snapped, "It's always work with you. Do you know !" he stop himself and spat "Just forget it."
"I'm here now, it's all the same," Ernest replied quietly. His tone was steady, but his words felt hollow even to himself.
Paul shook his head, his frustration boiling over. "You don't get it, do you? You've never cared. Not about them, not about me—nothing!"
Overcome by his emotions, Paul suddenly shoved Ernest, unleashing his frustration. Exhausted and caught off guard by the unexpected force, Ernest lost his footing and fell backward, his head slamming into a sharp metal railing. A searing pain shot through the back of his skull, and blood began to pour from the wound, staining the ground beneath him.
Paul froze for a moment, his anger giving way to panic as he noticed the blood pouring from his brother's head. He rushed to Ernest's side, desperately trying to support him, his hands trembling as he pressed against the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.
"I... I..." Paul stammered, his voice breaking. "Anyone!! Help me!" He screamed, his desperation growing with each passing second. "Help!!!" He shouted again, his voice hoarse. "P-Please, hang in there! Help is coming!" The words barely left his lips before his voice cracked, his throat tight with helplessness.
He knows that his current condition that are currently dying.
He tried to reach his hand for final farewell, yet to no avail his body was already as rigid as a statue.
A surge of memories rushed through his mind. He wondered if he would ever be given a chance to undo what he had done.
He momentarily cursed at his inability to relate and understand his own emotion and others.
Yet there is nothing that he could do now. His thoughts drifted into the final scene that crossed over his mind. It was his memory listening to his energetic brother about the stars, outer space, and his dream of becoming an astronaut together while they were still young. The stars gradually faded from his eyes as if eaten by the endless darkness of the world. His sight was filled with utter darkness.
Suddenly, a blinding flash of light filled his eyes, he moved around only to find a soft textile touched his skin no matter what he did. He gazed upward only to see an old wood ceiling above, waiting for him. Slowly, he raised his hands into the view only to find out that his rough, calloused hands had already transformed into something small and delicate looking similar to those newborn baby hands.