Grave

Sam sat in her backyard, her head in her knees, in front of the grave she had just dug. She had made a tombstone out of a large, flat rock she found earlier that week at the park.

On the rock, she had engraved: Here lies Frothy, the best rabid, three-legged cat anyone could ask for. RIP. 01-12-95 – 12-23-11.

Though she complained about the cat all the time, she really was going to miss Frothy. He was the only friend she had after Melanie moved out to go to boarding school, and whenever her mom would go on one of her spontaneous trips, she liked having another living creature in the house that showed her affection.

Suddenly, she heard her back gate open and footsteps walking over to her.

"Hey," Freddie said gently, sitting down next to her. "How you doing?"

"Fine," she shrugged, not taking her eyes off the grave.

Freddie knew she was lying, but he didn't push the issue.

"Wow, you've had Frothy since '95?" he asked, reading the tombstone. "You weren't even a year old when you got him, huh?"

"No," Sam said. "My Uncle Carmine bought him for me and Melanie as a late Christmas present, since he was in jail for the real day."

"That's sweet," Freddie said, putting his arm around Sam. "Hey, I've always wondered, what happened to his fourth leg?"

"My dad backed over him," Sam said. "On his way to the tattoo parlor when I was three."

Freddie kissed Sam's head. "I'm sorry. That's terrible."

"Whatever. It's done."

"Hey, I got something for you," Freddie said, pulling her phone out of his pocket.

Sam frowned. "How'd you get my phone?"

"I've picked up a few skills from you," he grinned. He handed her the phone. "I made you a digital scrapbook of Frothy. You know, to help you remember him."

Sam looked through the many pictures Freddie had uploaded. "Wow," she said. "Where'd you get all these?"

"I called your mom and had her send them to me," he replied. "Do you like it?"

Sam didn't answer. She just leaned over and kissed her boyfriend on the lips.