pale

pt. 3

This routine continued over a period of days, which turned into weeks, which turned into months.

After all that time, she never ran out of questions.

And I had never asked her a real one.

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I walked into the cemetery on a brisk April morning, ready with a few questions of my own.

I headed for our bench, staring at my feet.

When I looked up, she was nowhere in sight.

"Tate?" I called quietly, then repeated myself more loudly.

Thinking she was late, which she had never been before, I sat on the bench alone.

I kept checking my watch impatiently.

She never showed up, but I had seen the rose from the day before on my father's grave, just like it always was.

Convincing myself she was just sick, I left with a mental promise to return the next day.

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