Where is My {S O U L} (Arc)

I pull my hands out of the engine as they are now greasy and dirty. I hear a loud noise as my wrench falls to the ground. It has been over a year since Kia died. It feels like I'm the only one who really cared about him. It seems that no one else even mentions him as if not talking about him would bring him back. I wash off my hands in one of our little sinks near the engine repairing station where I like to spend my time. Working at an engine can almost dull the pain from a year old scar that runs through my heart. Almost.

I start walking out of the dirty smelling room into the toxic air of District three. I remember one time I was with Kia out here and he was making jokes about the air. If only he was here. My feet plod along the ground in a tired manner. I open the entrance to the graveyard and walk over to the tributes section. There hasn't been a district three tribute since Klaus Goravitch and so the graveyard was full of old, forgotten tributes in the hunger games.

Kia's stone, along with all the others, was bear except for a few words printed on it.

Kia Soul
Tribute of the 68th Hunger Games

I had screamed at this peacekeepers who brought it. They hadn't even thought to ask if there was some thing we could do to make it more memorable to show Kia wherever he is that he is still loved. I still love him. I looked at the tiny brown words on it and smiled slightly. You weren't allowed to "graffiti" grave stones, but one day after it had rained I wrote with mud. I wrote along the bottom:

Beloved Brother to which no one could compare.

As my smile vanished, a small tear crept onto my face. Soon it was a torrent of silent silver tears leaving tracks along my dirty face. They soon fell off my chin and started to wet the ground where Kia was buried.