The evening was quiet, with a nice breeze billowing through the streets. As people bustled by, very few stopped into Cole Creations: Just a Dollop of Icing, where a young man, Cole to be exact, worked his hardest to make his pastries exquisite.

        Although very few people ever stopped in, when they did, they became  lifetime customers. Anyone who stepped into his little shop always came back again. Whether in a few days, a few months, or an annual thing, every single person who came always showed back up.

        Cole just loved it. He loved to bake for others, he loved to see their smiles, everything about it brought him happiness. And yet, no one wanted to try his new recipes.

       He sighed thinking about his new recipe, no one who walked in, wanted anything he made creatively. He never understood why, they looked divine, and he thought they tasted wonderful, but anytime he tried to advertise them, he would be met with a no thank you.

        Cole was standing behind the cash register leaning his head on the counter. No one had walked in that day, and it was nearing closing time, which was not good for business.

        "Maybe I look dirty?" Cole knew that wasn't true but he still walked into his small bathroom and checked. He looked at his face, and his white and red striped apron, his mother's apron. Cole smiled at it. She had given it to him when he turned 16, and he'd had it ever since, even after her passing.

        Died in a terrible battle of cancer, he recalled. It had only been 7 years ago, but, anytime he thought about it, it made him want to cry. Something about seeing his mother so sickly, but trying to act like she wasn't in pain always hurt him. No matter how much she smiled and said she was okay, Cole knew. He knew she was in more pain than she let on, but she kept smiling, all the up until the very end.

        He tried not to think about it, he didn't want a flashback to her face, pale and sickly. Cole turned on the water and splashed his face, trying to block it out. Slowly though, the memories clouded his thoughts.

^*^*

       Beep, beep. Her heart monitor continued quietly. Cole's mother's laid on the hospital bed, not moving. She was sleeping, the only solace where she wasn't in pain. Cole sat next to her, his eyes bloodshot from the tears that had consumed him again and again. Even after she said to him no more tears.

        His hand held her cold one, she wasn't dead, but she was close, too close for him. "Please don't leave me mom, please."

        He knew she was going to if not that very day, then the next. Yet he hoped she'd wake and tell him, in her warm voice, "Of course not dear, I'm going to be fine. I won't leave you alone." Cole's tears fell again, even after he felt like there were no more tears to be had.

        The hospital room was stuffy, the white walls too bright and cheery for what felt like the last time Cole would see his mom. Cole tried to think positively, trying to push away the thought of death, and mourning, but they just kept creeping back.

        As he sat there quietly watching his mother and wiping his tears, his dad walked in. He was so quiet when he walked, trying not to wake his wife; it almost seemed like a ghost has entered instead of his father.

        "Cole, we..." His father tried to say, but the monitor spiked. Then it rose, the beeping got faster, and Cole shoved his chair backwards as he stood with fear all over his face. Doctors and nurses filled the room, and Cole hit the floor with wobbly knees.

        "Mom?" He called quietly.

        "Honey!" His father exclaimed, then scanned the small private room to find Cole sitting scared. "Cole, are you okay?" He pushed a couple nurses away to reach his son, and then caught him in a hug. Right there, in that nearly full hospital room, the two of them silently shared a horrific bond.

        "Get these two out, and get my tools she's destabilizing too quickly." The doctor rolled up his sleeves and got ready to work.

        "Yes doctor." A nurse replied and quickly rushed out of the room.

"Also will someone please remove the family, get them out!" Another nurse nodded and tried to remove Cole and his dad.

        "No! Let me go! Mom!" Cole shoved the nurse away, and tried to reach his mother, but his dad then stood in the way.

        "No Cole, we need to leave." He picked up Cole, with such a small frame, curly brown hair and a girlish face, Cole almost looked like a girl. His voice still hadn't dropped an octave so he even sounded feminine. The sobbing sounds resonated with his father deeply, as he continued to walk out of the room.

        "Dad please!" Cole beat on his father's back, and just as they walked out of the door frame, Cole heard it. He heard it. The eternal note, the lamenting song that changed any kid whose parent was laying on that bed. His mother would never come back from that song, that long, monotonous orchestral noise. The song that forever warped his innocence and forever changed him in ways other children might not even begin to comprehend.

        His mother was not coming back, and sweet 16 year old Cole knew it. And he  bursted into tears.

^*^*

       Cole pushed away his thoughts and tears as he left the bathroom. He tried to focus on his empty store, focus on a distraction. Pelting rain hit against the store roof, reminding Cole to grab the umbrella in his office before he left that night. It was nearly closing time, but Cole couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. Another thirty minutes and then he would force himself out, he thought.

        Just then, a bang came. Loud and piercing, like fireworks. Cole immediately hid under his counter, and reached for the light switch. The store went dead silent, so silent Cole swore he heard a pin drop. After the shot, Cole continued to wait, he couldn't tell how long because he was so scared.

        "What the hell just happened?" He whispered aloud. After some time had passed, he slowly stood. Sighing, he turned on the light and checked outside, seeing no one. Even though he saw no one, he did see something that freaked him out; a dark red spot against the store next to him.