He screamed at the pile of ash. This wasn’t his normal cry. This was haunting, almost silent, like he couldn’t get the sound out. Like wind rushing across a desolate landscape. He screamed, over and over until he had no more. “Oh, mother,” Prepotente finally said, his voice raspy. “Oh, mother, what did you do? Please. Please, no.” He turned to look up at me and Donut. Muddy tears ran down his face. “She was going to play piano for me like she used to. She was going to sing me my special song.”
