Rashi sets a brisk walk down the street to the graveyard. He’s walked so many times it’s all muscle memory by now. It’s leaves his mind too much space to process the anger within him.

“Who are these for?” Àmir inquiries, handing him the flowers Rashi asked him to pick up.

“Hisao.” Rashi slings a bag over his shoulders, and takes the flowers eyeing Àmir cautiously.

Àmir cocks his head. “Who’s that?”

Rashi has never felt a blind rage build in him so quickly.

He leaves before he can do anything too rash.

“Who’s that,” Rashi scoffs, voice full of disdain. “How dare he.” By now, he’s reached the arch to the graveyard, inside he navigates his way to the back where a small stone slab holds a small red and white vase. Below it, a golden plague reads: ‘Hisao, a kindness to be remembered and a memory to forever cherish’.

Rashi stares at the vase as his anger fades into pain. He sighs as a voice plays in his head.

‘Cherish our history.’

Rashi feels a sting behind his eyes. Hisao’s last words.

‘Don’t ever forget me.’

‘Of course.’

Rashi hears his younger self. He remembers Àmir by his side, a seldom nod in response as Àmir cried quietly beside him.

Rashi squats down, bringing his knees to his chest, he raises a hand to slide it against the plague then sets the flowers down next to the vase. He scoffs again.

“He’s forgotten you.” Rashi huffs, bitterness lacing his tone. “Asked me who you were. How dare he forget your importance! He doesn’t remember anything about you. Not your favorite flowers. Not your name. Not even what you looked like.”

Rashi tries to draw the visual of Hisao in his mind, but it’s like reaching through thick fog for a light. He jolts, then falters as he continues. “He. He doesn’t remember what you’ve done. For me. For him. None of it. Awful isn’t it?”

“He doesn’t even remember we wrote this together,” Rashi gazes at the plague ruefully, “I’ll be honest, I might have forgotten how you look.” Rashi chuckles humorlessly. “But at least I remember who put these words here.”

Rashi stares dazedly at the vase before he continues. “It’s hurts. It’s hurts a lot seeing him forget you, your kindness, your everything. But,” Rashi sinks to his knees, the sting behind his eyes building, lining them with tears. He chokes, burying his face in his hands, he cries. “But, it hurts more knowing I, too, have forgotten you.”