Bobby Jenkins was a precocious kid. He was reading years ahead of his grade level, dressing himself, keeping his room clean, but his feet still didn’t touch the floor as he sat at the kitchen table, eating the oatmeal he’d prepared.
“Hello.” Said the pale girl sitting opposite of him.
He looked up and waved. He didn’t talk with his mouth full.
Bobby nodded. “Arbitrary grab from the cabinet.” He’d learned that word this week.
“Your house is nicer than what we had. Before the Yellow Fever took all us.”
Frowning, Bobby scolded her. “I told you, if you’ve got to stop talking like that if you’re going to keep coming around.”
Tears welled up in here eyes. “I know. I just miss my family.”
“You could go to them,” Bobby nudged, gently.
“But I’m scared! Scared to leave my home. Even if it is your home now.”
His mom walked into the kitchen, still putting on her ear rings. “Who are you talkin’ to, kiddo?”
Bobby looked up. The chair across from him was empty.
His mother looked at him curiously for a moment, the mussed his hair.
“C’mon, time to get to school.” She said.
The Yellow Fever epidemic dotted the city with graves, both hidden and marked, single and mass. It is inescapable that was as time wears on, something will get put atop them. And when that happens, who knows what gets stirred up.