REINCARNATION

I wandered aimlessly around the cemetery, looking at random names and dates, looking for one in particular. So far, nine I wasn't looking for had caught my eye. All in a row, they looked like a family, though every name was different.

First was April Ericcson, 1966-1988, "Always So Dear." That was it. A name, a date, and a quote. Nothing else about who April was, what her hobbies were, who her friends and family were, how she died.

Next was Angel Dumott Schunard, 1965-1989, "I'll Cover You." Thomas B. Collins, 1964-1992, "Life's No Fun Without Fun." Mimi Marquez-Davis, 1970-1994, "No Day But Today." Roger Davis, 1967-1995, "I Have Always Loved You."

My heart gave a small leap as I read the date on Roger Davis' headstone. He had died the day before I was born. Why this affected me so, I don't know.

Next was Benjamin Coffin III, 1966-1996, "You'll See."

I didn't like Benjamin Coffin's grave. My eyes flickered involuntarily back to Mimi Marquez-Davis' grave, a protective feeling washing through me.

After him was Maureen Johnson, 1966-1997, "Jump Over The Moon."

A slight feeling of annoyance came over me, a smirk forming on my face.

Joanne Jefferson, 1966-1997, "We're OK."

The last grave I encountered hit me he hardest. A single tear slid down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away. I didn't like people to see me cry, even dead people. I stared at the stone.

Mark Cohen, 1966-2002, "How Did We Get Here?"

Mark's quote had a sort of... finality to it. Like how did these nine people end up in a row in a graveyard, all of them so young? Mimi had only been 24 when she died. What led to this...?

I turned, forgetting my previous quest, and ran out of the graveyard and to the florist shop a few blocks away. I picked up a trowel and nine flowers using my allowance money.

I returned and tenderly cleared the weeds off of each grave and placed its proper flower on each.

A daffodil for April, a sunflower for Angel, a Gerber daisy for Thomas, an orchid for Mimi, a tulip for Benjamin, an Iris for Maureen, a lily for Joanne, and a rose for Mark.

Why I chose those flowers, I don't know. Why these nine people, these nine strangers, most of whom had died before I was born, spoke to me, I don't know. Why I cried over the grave of one remains a mystery.

But one thing is for certain: I will not let these strangers be forgotten.

A/N: If it was too vague, just message me, I'll explain it. This is my first fic, so feedback is nice. ~TR