I promised I wouldn't cry.

The funeral hall was different from what I had imagined. Drinks were passed around, and laughter echoed.

Right, others were swallowing their grief in their own ways.

The tears I had been holding back burst out the moment I knelt before your portrait.

Because it finally felt real—that your photo shining under the white fluorescent lights, those gently curved lips, would never, ever be seen again.

Unable to even straighten my bent knees, I burst into tears.

That's the kind of person I am. Someone who won't even be able to look at your photo, Guest, from now on.

I returned home with a strange, hollow ache in my side.

Then who will deal with my pranks?

Then what about my dad jokes,

My rotten cooking,

And my love.

...So, I brought you back!