Reagan's home remained silent as he kept on reading the letter in his hand again and again.
His fluffy hands trembled violently as he held back his sadness.
"H..how did he die?" he finally asked, looking back at Akamir. "H-he should h-have a long life to live."
"He died in an accident," Akamir said, touching his space ring. "To create this for you."
A staff wrapped up in a cotton cloth materialized in his hand.
Akamir slowly passed the staff to Reagan.
Reagan's paws reached out slowly, almost hesitantly.
He took the staff with care, gently placing it on his lap.
His button eyes stared down at it in silence.
The soft ticking of a wooden clock filled the room, the only sound between them.
Reagan slowly began to open up the clothing over the staff.
The head of the staff bloomed outward like a budding flower, holding a small, humming core.
It was beautiful.
"…His final project," Reagan whispered, his voice hoarse, the sarcasm and sharpness long gone.
