Michael chopped down on the 'off' button, eager to silence the noise he thought served only as an unnecessary reminder to wake up. He had spent the entire night at his desk in front of his laptop, eyes red and glossy from scanning Reddit for far too long. It seemed that, by now, everyone had an opinion on what had happened. Every news headline had a different name for the men in black who walked into city hall and blew the mayor's brains out. Every thread on Reddit had a conspiracy theory for why it had been so easy to do it. The people were revolting. 

Michael held his palm to his chest as a burst of adrenaline went coursing through his veins and he felt as if his entire body was throbbing with energy. And suddenly, it twisted his stomach, as a subsequent wave of guilt weighed enough to nearly push him through his chair. Jasmine. Poor Jasmine.

He evaded his reflection in the mirror while he instead focused on fixing the deformed knot of the black tie he borrowed from his own father's collection. He let his fingers linger along the soft silk, and sighed.

*** 

"This necklace holds my favorite memory of daddy," Jasmine lamented softly as she let the tiny shard dance in her fingertips. Michael stood planted by her side, saying nothing as he searched within himself for the strength to be what she needed. She continued to reminisce, but she tactfully omitted the darker parts of the story. Things like how in the months leading up to his tragic accident it had all gotten so unbearable between him and her mother that at eighteen Jasmine decided to move out and be on her own, or that now that he was dead, no one might ever know just how many bastard children he had behind her mother's back, and that he had lied to her about it all this time...such details were to be omitted in a tasteful homegoing.

"I felt so lost," she said, "like I had no one. And then I felt him behind me, telling me that he never wanted me to feel like he wasn't there, even when he couldn't be. And you know what? I never feel that way. He showed me these seashell necklaces," she said, tugging on the tiny string around her neck. "They were a single seashell split in half, so there was one for me and one for him. It meant that we were each other's important piece to keep safe."

It was an outdoor funeral on an early spring morning. There were his friends, longtime business associates, and past lovers. Her father was the proud man depicted above the open plot of dirt. Beside his image was his sister, delivering her parting words, saying all the right things to reroute the sadness to a galvanizing of faith in and attention to the word of God.

Finally, after she was done, the pastor closed with his eulogy, and then began to lead the crowd in singing some churchy song everybody knew. Then, he announced where the dinner was being had and that everyone was free to disperse. The only ones that stayed were the ones who wanted to pay some final respects. Others had unfinished business.

"Hello, Jasmine," she murmured coldly.

"Hello, mother."

The woman glared at the girl who approached with her hands folded one over the other out in front of her. She thought about how pretty she was. Her skin was the color of the sand and her eyes were big and a deep brown like tree bark. Her brow and the structure of her nose were definitely that of the man in the funeral portrait. That image of him could never be burned away from her memory as long as she was looking at that girl.

"Mrs. Jones? Hi, it's so nice to finally meet you, I'm Michael," the boy announced, perhaps a bit too eagerly given the circumstances. But he extended his hand out to her anyway. She glared at him and slowly rolled her eyes.

"It's good seeing you," Jasmine said with a stone-faced glare of her own.

"Is it?" her mother responded coldly.

"You're right, what am I saying?"

Her mother crossed her arm as she let escape from her lips a vindictive simper. "So, I guess this means neither of us wins."

"What?"

She twisted his nose up. "Oh, don't think I don't know. I always knew."

"Mom, please."

"You were 'Daddy's Special Little Girl.' His perfect little sunshine. Your father was always obsessed with getting something younger and younger. And you were so happy to take my place, weren't you?"

"Mom, that's sick. H-he never touched me!"

"You little slut," she snarled.

Jasmine's face had gone red. Her brow had balled up in a mixture of seething anger and an overwhelming hurt as the tears began to burn. She could barely speak.

"I...don't ever wanna see you again," she finally grumbled.

"Jasmine!" they heard an older woman call. They both turned to find her voice as Jasmine quickly scrambled to fix her face.

The older woman was beaming from ear to ear. "Your grandma just told me your SAT scores were the best in your class! I know your daddy must've been so proud of his little doctor!"

"Oh, haha, thanks Auntie," Jasmine murmured. She could practically feel the heat from her mother's searing glare on the back of her neck.

"Don't hang around too long now, babies. Don't keep my macaroni waiting."

"We're coming, Auntie." Her smile evaporated as she turned back to her mother.

"Have a nice life, Jasmine. I hope you get everything you've got coming to you," she grunted before walking away.

"Well, you too. Enjoy the macaroni, you hateful bitch."