Bastien’s POV
The day after my father’s murder the sun rises just like it has every morning for eons. Its rays filter through the gauzy curtains adorning our bedroom windows, announcing dawn’s arrival as if this day is no different than the millions which came before.
This cannot be. Surely the sun cannot shine on a world where my father does not exist. Surely the earth cannot keep spinning when his life has winked out forever.
Yet they do. The world forges on as though nothing has changed – oblivious to the loss of one of its most remarkable creations.
I wish I could snuff out the dawn as brutally as someone did my father’s soul.
All I have left of him now are memories. Every plan we made, every expectation or imagined future is gone. We will never speak again, never go on another
