In town, I found myself amongst the children - unexpectedly, to pick up my nieces, of blood and not. Their voices, shrill yet the harmony of innocence. The first (not of my blood), I asked, "Do you remember me?" She replied with, "Yes," and held my hand. It's minuscule warmth radiated within mine, her voice like bells. The second, of my blood, I asked, "Have you missed me?" in which she replied, "Of course, uncle Stevie," as she adjusted her glasses that warped her marine-hued eyes. I broke then, but with a smile as we walked to the car. I looked back upon them, these absolute molds of perfection and said, "I would have been a good father", to the audience of my mind.