It's been four years since that hellish day, which makes me about twenty now. Since then there hasn't been much that I've done despite that declaration. Maria's birthday would be coming up soon and I have nothing to show for it again this year. All I've managed is to scrape out some sort of living offering a hand here or there just to put some food on my table. There was this young lad though that seemed to be interested in some of the crafts I had with me at the time, though they were merely relics of a life long passed.

He would come to see me in this apartment of a place, if one can call some doors attached to a dug-out hole an apartment. There wasn't much to see here other than the things I've made out of various scraps to amuse myself, since not but some blankets were on the concrete floor and a single bulb overhead to light the room were there. The tools I had used sat in one corner of the room, closer to where my "bed" lay, while some models of various ship designs, robots, starship designs, and a manner of other unique man-made craft sat on the other side of the room. It's not like I had them on display; rather they were just a part of this room as I made more and more of them. It had crossed my mind to sell the things, but nobody would have been interested in these scraps that I've taken from various sources. Some metal while others were made of paper or plastic, and none of them truly meshed well together with their mediums. I don't know what the kid saw in them.

He asked me one day to teach him, the red-haired lad, and I actually said yes. For some reason he made me think of myself at that age, perhaps about four or so, and maybe that's what made me agree. Perhaps the will of Maria was there with me. Perhaps it was just the specters of my friends to persuade me to move on with this, but day in and day out I never once thought to stop. He would always show up at my door around the same time of day it felt. Never once did I ask for any money in exchange. He seemed delighted in what I did and I showed him precisely how to use my knowledge and tools. To this day he even progressed far beyond what I was able to attain.

Oddly enough, a lady who seemed in her twenties came by my hole and asked to see the person that had been teaching her son such a "unique" craft, as she called it. She had on her head the very same style of hair that Maria enjoyed to sport herself; a long and straight style that allowed each fiber the freedom to move wherever it felt. It reached about to her ankles just by a quick glance, which was rather surprising since she stood at about my very same height. It was red and flared brighter than even her son's, if this was truly the mother of my pupil. Her eyes met mine for a moment and I couldn't help myself but long to see what was behind the emerald surface. I wanted to know this gorgeous woman, but this would have to wait.

"Aye, If your son is Ren," I said, still having my left arm attached to the door only half-opened. Couldn't be too sure nowadays if someone wants to kill you and rob you of more than just your life or genuinely want to talk.

"He is, and he gave this to me today." She removed an object from a pouch she had at her side that resembled one of my own works from years ago; a figure that looked exactly like my beloved. I knew that the kid was good, but I hadn't a clue he had produced something like this. I turned back for a moment to check the one piece of work I've always kept by my bedside—which Maria was indeed still there. Looking back to the fiery-haired woman, I tried to find a next line to say. She didn't make it easy, but spoke first.

"I wanted to find the person that finally gave my son a dream," she said, clinging to her precious gift with both hands and bosom; looking to me as if I had suddenly become a god. I wasn't sure whether or not to hug her to keep her from tearing up, let her in, or just laugh it off and say it wasn't a problem. Again she made the decision to act first, but made things that much more difficult to respond to.

I found myself with a new face buried into my chest, but it wasn't for the right reasons. I had to slip both of my hands under her arms to keep this woman from falling any further after she tripped on the base of the door. She hadn't been the first to make that mistake, but was the first to fully lose balance. I couldn't help but laugh a little as she tried to regain what composure she had, though we were both on the floor. If I hadn't been there, she probably would've ended up face-first into my concrete floor rather than my chest. My, did she look embarrassed at this point! Her cheeks started to have the same hue as her hair and the look that she had on her face was more than priceless. Something of a mix between a prideful "I'll kill you if you say a word," and "I'm glad you were there to catch me."

This time, I was the one to speak first—after of course letting out a short burst of half-hearted laughter. "You haven't been the first to trip over that thing." Looking into her eyes, I again wondered what I could find behind them. It's almost like she reminded me of Maria, but I know no one could ever fill that gap in my lifetime. Though I was only a teenager that moment, she was the one I felt like I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. She's gone now, but that won't stop me from still loving her.

"Th-thanks…" she spoke; head immediately tilted towards the heartless floor. The hair of fire itself covered what little I could've seen of her face, though I didn't need to see in order to understand. My right hand found her slender shoulder on its own accord; acting on its own will to comfort her. What I thought should be happiness was only met in tears as her hands let the figure fall to the floor to further conceal her inner torment. There was no shatter to be heard, but only a gentle tear.