The 9th of June. Two weeks after the death of Ryan. Emma stood in-front of the open window releasing her hand out to the cold breeze that brushed her tender skin. She shut her eyes trying to derive comfort from the overbearing heat that was burning her up from the inside that morning. It would have been Ryan's birthday today. He would have turned three today. Emma quickly cleaned the tears streaming down her cheeks with her left palm. She must be strong. She said. She had vowed to be strong even though the last two weeks had been the most difficult stage of her life. Her days became darker...