He takes my hollow booksack in his hands and I trail behind him as we walk to the parking lot. “Do I have a doctors appointment? Mom said I already got all my shots.” He sighs and looks down at me, “Bre. Willow went to Heaven today.” My lip starts to quiver and my vision blurs, “wha-why?” “Someone accidentally ran over her,” my knees tremble and the blonde strings of my hair fall in front of my eyes as I leap into the passenger side.

            “Willow was a sweet kitty. She loved when I held her and her favorite color was green,” my tears are dripping onto the thin sheets of a Bible. I sniffle and look to my audience. “Does anyone have any final words?” still kneeling in the grass my brother scoots forward, “Willow loved me even though I pulled her tail and poked her ears,” his voice trails off. The ceremony ends with a homemade cross, two sticks bound in the middle with duct tape, being placed above a buried shoebox.