The Warmth of Family
"Alright, dinner's ready~" the woman said, taking her apron off.
The man - my father - ruffled my hair and set his newspaper down. "Come on, little guy. There's nothing like your mother's cooking in this world."
I wiped my tears away, and without thinking too much, I followed him, sitting down at the dinner table.
"Why are you crying, Kaze?" the woman - my mother - asked.
"N-Nothing… it's just… how?" I wondered aloud desperately. "How am I here? How are YOU here? Aren't you two… dead?"
The two of them blinked collectively, then burst out laughing. "Hahaha! Who told you that, little guy? Your mother and I are still well and alive, thank you very much. You just saw us this morning, what are you talking about?"
"Hehe, that's not a very good joke, Kaze," my mother smiled as she set down chopsticks for all three of us on the table.
I placed my hand to my forehead and gritted my teeth. "No… this can't be right…"