I slowly stop talking about Tokyo Ghoul. "And that's episode two," I mutter, waiting for a response I know isn't coming. One's dead. The other… well, a dinosaur.
I chuckle through a lump in my throat. "Yeah, I know. Great retelling, right? Perfect reaction, like you guys were there yourselves."
Boa snorts, then lets out a long sigh like she's tired. I pretend not to notice—pretty sure she doesn't understand a word I'm saying anyway. She gets up and wanders off to munch on some leaves.
I take a long breath and relax my muscles. "Yeah… you're right, Boa. I've been dragging this out too long, huh?"
I glance at Sara's grave. "Alright, Sara… time to cover you up and say our last goodbye."
I grab my makeshift shovel and begin filling the grave, mixing sand and dirt, humming a sad, haunted lullaby. Boa watches silently, chewing. The jungle hums around us—roars, growls, the faint cries of prehistoric creatures.
I pause for a second and look toward the trees. "You think they're nice, just like you?" I say with a dry laugh, then turn back to the grave.
The grave fills slowly, and my lullaby grows heavier and more sorrowful. When the last scoop of dirt falls, I stop and notice tears streaming down my face. I wipe at them awkwardly, pretending it's nothing. "Always at the worst moments… ain't that right, Boa?"
She huffs and snorts. Typical.
"Alright… let's get that cross made."
I gather a plank, torn-up clothes for string, and a sharp rock for carving. I start assembling the cross: a stick, the plank, and the pink cloth tied in an X. Solid enough.
"Not bad," I mutter, brushing stray hairs from my face.
I pick up the rock. "Time to carve." My finger pokes the sharp edge. "Ow… fuck. Perfect."
I sit cross-legged in front of the grave, placing the cross on my lap. Carefully, I carve:
"Here rests Sara.The number one mom in the world.The toughest, strongest person to walk this earth.A person who would walk through hell and back for her daughter.The first to hug Jesus and fist-bump God.Bravest. Fearless. Best friend. Loved one.Never forgotten. R.I.P."
I pause. "Day of death… wait, birth year?"Sara looked twenty-six. 2025… so 1999. I ask Boa. A snort confirms it.
I carve "1999–2025" on the cross and drop the rock beside me, letting my hands tremble. Sloppy, but readable.
"Look, Boa. Not bad, right?" She just stares, chewing. I take that as approval.
I stand, shake sand and dirt out of my dreads. "Damn… long hair's a curse sometimes, but I love it. Makes me look like a lion."
I plant the cross at the head of the grave and stack rocks around it so it won't fall. "Perfect."
I step back. "We did a good job, Boa. Even though you mostly just watched. Forgive me?" I laugh through my tears.
Sighing, I sit cross-legged again. "Sara… I hope you made it to heaven alright. Hugged Jesus, fist-bumped God. I hope you see your family. Watch over us… me, Boa, and your daughter. Don't worry… I'll find Sara Jr. when I get off this island, hopefully. And if I don't…" I laugh shakily. "I hope she still lives a long, happy life. Like… 400 years long. Just kidding. But she's built different—like her mom. Definitely stronger than me."
I glance at Boa. "You got anything to say to Sara?"
She stares at me, then the grave. Low grunts, rumbles, snorts… other noises I've never heard. She pauses, snorts once more, then lays back down, chewing quietly.
I wipe another tear, pat my chest. "That was beautiful… right here," I whisper, placing my hand over my heart.
I sit silently for twenty minutes, humming that same eerie, haunting lullaby, tears streaming freely now. Just me, Boa, and Sara's grave.