Ezra stood frozen, holding tightly onto the bouquet of pink tulips in his hand. He gazed at the names of his parents on the columbarium wall, feeling soothed by the peaceful atmosphere. The building itself seemed cold even in the summertime, but somehow it felt comforting.
For a moment, he just stood there like a statue. His lips remained silent, and he continued to stare at the inanimate objects in front of him. His finger traced the outline of the small photo of his mother and then moved on to touch the photo of his father.
He took a deep breath and paused, lost in thought. The voices in his head were growing louder, but he tried to ignore them. They were the same voices that always disturbed his peace of mind, clouding his thoughts.
What were they saying?
