"Why are you burning Lester’s things?" I shouted.
But he ignored me, picking up the last item—a toy Kendra had bought for Lester’s birthday. Lester had been so happy to receive it; he would hold it close every night, even sleeping with it. Watching it burn, piece by piece, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I laughed bitterly, my voice hoarse.
"Burn it well," I muttered.
Exhausted and broken, I collapsed to the ground, unable to fight anymore.
The next thing I knew, I woke up lying on a bed. I glanced at my phone—it was already the next day. Today marked the end of the five-year agreement and, more painfully, Lester’s funeral. I forced myself to sit up, splashed cold water on my face, and shaved off the stubble. I couldn’t let Lester see me like this; I needed to maintain some dignity, to give him the peace he deserved.
Just as I finished, the door burst open. Kendra stood in the doorway, looking furious.
She froze for a moment before slapping me across the face.
"Joseph, you’re still shaving, and you—it's your fault! You poured oil on the steps and caused Russell to break his leg!" she spat.