The cemetery smelt of dirt and ash. Leo stood before the tomb, holding his mother's hand.
His grandfather was in there.
Leo didn't blink, didn't cry, his eyes holding the quiet of the grave.
He remembered the days his grandfather used to play with him. The time Grandpa surprised him with a new bike. The touch of his rough hands when he lifted him. The quiet smile that made him feel safe…
He could remember the night before. He overheard his grandfather talking with his parents through the wall, but he could only make out fragments:
"…But what if he isn't ready…"
"…He's eight! We can't…"
"…I'm sorry…"
The memory burned in his mind, like graphite what ref. All he could think of was his grandfather, and nothing else held significance.
People came and left, mostly relatives, but there were some unfamiliar ones. Leo saw them, but he didn't care about them. They looked at him, some with sympathy, others with something he couldn't name. They were strange, but Leo's mind didn't have place for them.
Later that day, it was time to go home.
Leo sat at the back beside his newborn sister, still sleeping in her car seat, oblivious. His parents sat in the front, no one talking to anyone. He looked out the window, remembering the old times.
hiss… hiss…
Leo's chest tightened, rising and falling in rapid, shallow movements. His mind raced; his head spun. Numbness crept through his limbs.
"M… m… h…"
His voice betrayed him.
"…"
Only a sharp, airy gasp came out.
Darkness started to swallow the world around him, and he couldn't even call for help.
"It started…" His father said, not even looking at him.
The last thing Leo saw was his mother's tear-streaked face, whispering: "sorry…"
And everything went black.