Summary: Roger visits April, Angel, and Mimi's graves.
Roger Davis walked through the cemetery. It was pouring out, but he didn't care. He needed to do this.
He walked up to a tombstone, the grave of his ex-girlfriend, April Ericcson.
"Hey, April," Roger said as he kneeled on the ground. "I know it's been a while since I saw you. Maybe if I had acted faster you'd still be here with me," the musician said as tears formed in his eyes. "But, you're in a better place now. You're up there with Mimi and Angel. You didn't know them when you were with me, but if you know them now, I'm sure you'll hit it off."
Roger reached into his backpack, and pulled out a white rose. He dug a small hole, and stuck the rose into it.
"It was nice seeing you again."
Roger got up. He walked over to a different grave. The one belonging to Angel.
"Hey, Angel. It's Roger. I just stopped by to say that I miss you. We ALL miss you, especially Collins. He rewired the ATM at the food mart. He made the code your name," Roger said as he smiled. "I wish you and Mimi were still here. I need you guys. You always brightened up the room, and cheered us up when it seemed like there was no hope."
Roger reached into his backpack, and pulled out a red rose and a white rose. He dug two holes, and stuck one rose in each hole.
Roger looked at the grave next to Angel's. It was Mimi's grave. He scooted over to Mimi grave, and set his backpack next to him.
"Hey Mimi," Roger said as he touched a hand to the grave. "How ya doing? I guess you're doing well. I miss you. I know, that doesn't sound like much, but I'd do ANYTHING to have you guys back. It was bad when Angel died, but when you died, it was like my world fell apart. You were the best person I ever met. And it's not fair. I should be the one in the dirt. Not you. You deserve to be here with Collins, and Mark, and Mo, and Joanne."
Roger reached into his backpack and pulled out a white rose, a red rose, a pink rose, and a piece of paper.
He dug three holes, and stuck a rose into each. He kept the piece of paper.
"Remember this?" Roger asked. "It's the song I wrote for you. It was the first song I'd finished in a long time. I wrote it just for you."
He dug into his backpack, and picked up a nail and hammer. He placed the song on the tombstone, and placed the nail on top of it. With one swift move of the hammer, the song was hanging out of the stone, suspended by the nail.
"There you go Mimi. I'll see you very shortly."
Roger dug into his backpack one more time, and pulled out an army knife. He held the knife to his wrist; the cold steel made his skin crawl. He pulled the knife back, and let his blood drip onto the ground Mimi was in. He took the bleeding hand, and cut his other wrist.
The pain was immense, and he could feel the life draining from him. Within a few minutes, Roger Davis was dead.
Mark and Collins found him the next morning, his arms draped over Angel and Mimi's graves.
The funeral was held the next week, he was buried in the middle of Mimi and Angel, right where he should be.
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