The sun was beating down on Darren as he strolled down the street, humming along to an old classic he’d heard on the radio earlier that morning. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and looked around at his surroundings. There was a sense of calm in the atmosphere, even on the busy city roads, and Darren smiled softly to himself. The trees were offering shade to a family, protecting them for the harsh rays of the sun while they ate. One young girl walked on the other side of the road, earphones in and bobbing her head to the beat. The flowers shook and danced as a gentle breeze sailed by. He stopped at a nearby flower stall, admiring some particularly bright daffodils. He picked them up softly and smelt them, the wonderful fresh smell of cut grass and morning dew entering his lungs.

He paid for the flowers and continued on his way, walking down to the glimmering lake at the end of the high street. He opened the creaking gate to the park and wandered through the long grass as it tickled his legs. He sat by the lake, watching a family of ducklings as he pondered his thought. He couldn’t remember the last time a day was this wonderful, the weather had brightened up for the dismal winter they’d just had. The birds were singing happily in the tree-tops, a million happy notes floating lazily in the breeze. Children threw bread into the lakes for the ducks, who were quacking happily at the thought of being fed, and laughter emanated from the play park just around the corner. It was a scene of tranquillity, and Darren loved every second of it.

After a while the sun began to set, and the air grew slightly colder. He draped his coat around his shoulders and stood up, beginning the walk home. He looked once again at the flowers, still has vibrant as he bought them, and smiled to himself. He stopped just short of his house, and turned down another road. It was quieter here, the sound of distant cars could not disturb the peace that surrounded this street. You could have heard a pin drop.

He walked further up the street, turning into the cemetery on the left. The gate swung open as the wind picked up and he went inside. There was not a soul around, just lines of cold, concrete tombstones. It seemed like the chill had picked up more here, it sent a shiver down Darren spine as he walked among the graves, searching.

He knelt down gently next to one of them, and began to talk about his day. He touched the tombstone softly, brushing away the cobwebs and the leaves.

“You would have liked the weather today mum, you always said that spring was your favourite time of the year. I didn’t want you to miss out mum, so I bought you some daffodils. They were the nicest ones I could find. I love you mum.”

He lay them softly on her grave, gently brushing over them with his fingertips.