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"The strongest people aren't always the people who win, but the people who don't give up when they lose."
-Unknown
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Hinrik sat on the first pew. He stared at the candles burning and sometimes flickering as the wind from outside blew.
A mass was held to comfort the bereaved family and friends, but Hinrik couldn't be comforted by any words of assurance. He wanted to hold his father's hand and wake him from the dead.
Hinrik stared at his trembling hands.
'I wish I had that kind of power,' he thought. The chapel was almost empty now. Except for the royal guards and the servants that picked up the scattered pieces of used tissue, no one else stayed.
Hinrik looked at his father's casket. It was arrayed with flowers of different kinds.
Most of them were given by the people.
With a heavy heart, he placed a hand over his chest and lowered his head.