We Didn’t Start the Fire

The wind blows and sends a shiver up his spine, causing him to tuck his chin into his jacket; he wipes his nose with the back of his hand, and he looks around the graveyard, noticing how his breath puffs out in a cloud of white smoke.

His face is pale, but he turns back to the person he came here for, and he says, “I got accepted into MIT today, Mr. Stark.”

There’s a lot more he could say, and a lot more that he wants to say, but it seems like enough; besides, the knot in his throat is so thick that he doesn’t think he even could say anything else, so he just nods, sniffs, and says, “I gotta go now, Mr. Stark, but I’ll be back tomorrow; I miss you.”