Solitude. It was what she most craved on this day. Her phone rang again, but she ignored it; her father never failed to mark the day with his phone calls, but she'd rather grieve alone. Their relationship was better than it had ever been, but this day was for her. Though she never thought to have friends, she had four that she considered nearly family; still she chose solitude. The grass was soft beneath her knees as she knelt in front of the white stone. She bent her head as her fingers traced the words, 'Risa Hino'.
“Mama,” she whispered, “Happy Birthday.”