"Heh, stay still. Flint'll love this." Jill smirks bringing up her phone. Just before the embers of her son's disintegrated shirt fade, she captures the shot.
"I don't get why you waste your time on a guy who isn't even here." Platinum pouts.
Her other son Sol says "It's memories for when he gets back, duh." Still holding on to the torn bits of his shirt, he continues slowly ripping. As the last strand in the front snaps he readjust it back onto his back and wearing it as an open shirt.
Jill she taps the family contacts first "Your aunt Glinda used to do the same thing. We've got so many tapes for when one of the family were gone for a while. Never wanted anybody to miss a moment..."
"He stopped texting before we was born." Plat mutters. "Maybe it's cuz he... you know... Doesn't want to."
As she adds in his side of the family, her eyes linger on Flint's contact. So many calls made and messages sent. She remembers the usual banter of the first few month"
"B safe dumbass" answered with "Pft no".
"lol dude pulled knife lol" Accompanied with a picture of a scared man staring at a broken knife.
"Yo pyramid blocks only 2 ton! Yall wnt 1?" Replied to by her brother Jake with a "ME!"
Forcing her to hastily respond "Pls dont. Cant uncurse u this far away". Which happened more then once.
Until the conversation became one sided. She can't tell if it's denial or hope that keeps her updating him on the status back home. She tries not to think about the worst case scenario but absolutely refuses to believe he had given up on coming back. That isn't Flint. She taps his contact and hit send. Adding another unread message to the collection. "No, he'll be back." She says with a smirk. "Either in person or we'll have drag his soul out of hell."
"Okay if we do the second thing, I get to build his body." Sol says. "I had a dream about a godzilla as my dad and I think everyone would like that."
"Hey, mom." Sol calls. She looks up to him as he asks, "What does tape have to do with memories? Does it make'em stick better?"
Jill stares blankly, thinking about just how old she is; then ruffles his hair while chuckles. They leave the photoshoot store, back into the mall as she explains old media. Elsewhere Flint stares at his old broken phone in his hand. He looks to the parents he had prepared to find dead, arguing like an old married couple over which direction. Flint looks back to his phone and thinks of home. He imagines the conversations he could be having with a smirk. He put it back into his pocket and treks homeward.
