I pressed my ear to wall. “Listen, my brother said. I heard them speaking.”

I didn’t hear anything at first and I rolled my eyes. Then, I heard them: the voice of our parents, fighting like they always did. Except, this time, it was quieter, more reserved, as if they cared that we were listening. That was new. I scrunched my brow and saw my brother nod; he knew I heard it too.

“Mom?” I said, drawing my ear away from the stone. There was no reply, but the talking stopped.

“They don’t answer back, like they used to. And it’s empty back there.”

I shook my head. “That makes no sense.”

The air of the mausoleum tickled my nose. He was right: behind the wall, there were just two big, closed boxes. No mom or dad.