Her eyes the kept moon as a still pond holds the stars. The month had turned and the crisp air was on the verge of breaking through, another change. After the long greyed cumulus cloud passed over the constellation her eyes were locked on, she brought her almost black eyes back to the stone at her foot, and then kneeled so that her left leg was bent and her right leg was underneath her. She wore the old grey hoodie and kept her hands half way in the sleeves, clenching the edges tapering past the wrists in her palm but keeping her small thumbs free. With the small bite of the inside of the cheek, she brought her left thumb to trace the engraved letters whose feeling she now knew too well. The month would be here as soon as this one passed, and then the day, and then it would be two years that she traced the seventeen letters, eight numbers, and one dash. She hadn't planned on coming, not even on being home. Thinking, she could smell the tulips that she always brought, thinking of how weary she had become in trying to bring herself to forget. Usually she cried for minutes that seemed like hours while she was there, but this night only one tear fell and she was even unsure if it fell for the same reasons they normally did. The warm wind caressed the spot behind her ear she loved, and it was there, in that moment, she surrendered to a small laugh. On her feet now, a melancholic wave made its way through her as she looked down with hands in the large pocket of that worn jacket. She didn't know how, but she knew in the way that one knows summer is over and the bite of winter is on its way. She stared, firm and saddened and certain that this would be the last time.
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