She looked at me with that bright smile and extended her arm towards me. She was gripping a bouquet of flowers, well more like weeds. Her eyes were shimmering with happiness.
"I picked them myself."
I didn't think that it was possible for her smile to get any wider until I accepted the flowers.
I remember that day like it was yesterday. Two days before I broke her heart, five days before she died. She was only eleven years old. My best buds little sister. She would always make me things and chat my ears off. Until I told her to back off. Now, I am at the cemetery placing a bouquet of weeds in front of her grave.
As tears flow down my face I remember the tears on hers the last time I spoke to her.
"It's time for you to grow up and move on. You're being unrealistic."
That's what I had told her, but she will never grow up.
