A,

The clock strikes 12, and what do you know. As I write, it’s July 23rd, again. Happy birthday to us.

Just as you predicted, I lived on without you. I never thought I could, but I did. Maybe what drove me was your desperate want for me to do so.

They took over. The quartids invaded Earth 67 years ago, and we work for them now. Days get rough, and nights are never quiet. They toss us like useless rags after a cleanse, and sometimes I find myself glad you’re not here. I know that if you were here, you wouldn’t be for long, because you would have tried to stop them. You would have stood out from the crowd, just as you always did. Without a care in the world, burning down cities with that fire behind your eyes. What I’d give to see you one more time.

What I’ll do today, on our special day, will be no different than what I’ve always done. I’ll wake up, go to work, get pushed around, steal food from the local markets, then come home and go to sleep. I’ll do all those things while finding a way to refer them back to you. As I always do.

I remember our last birthday together. On this day 100 years ago, I touched you for the last time. I heard your laugh for the last time, and I was warmed by your kindling love. For the last time.

“I know you, Kenneth. You’ll live on. One day this day will be your day rather than ours, and I’ve accepted that, so you can too. You’re a liver. I’m a fighter. There’s a difference.”

So, I sit here alone, lighting our cake. Lemon was always your favorite, but I hate lemon. So, as I eat my angel food slice, I have a lit lemon cupcake right beside me. Just like you were supposed to be.

One last thing. You were wrong. I am not a liver. Well, you could say I was at the time. But, time without you has taken my status as a liver and beaten it to a status of survivor. There’s no living without you A.

Happy Birthday to me.

Kenneth.