WEDNESDAY
I stood at the bus stop in an intense stare-down with the Brute Falls bus. It's engine almost a voice as I debated catching a ride, or trekking through the cemetery in hopes of finding you there.
And with every leaf that crumbled beneath my winter boots, the cemetery grew that much closer.
This time I didn't even have to look for you. You were right by the gate, crouched down, reading the engraved name on a stone.
I walked over to you and stood at the gate. Your gaze landed on mine and you spoke.
"It's amazing how we pass by cemeteries all the time and we don't stop to think that every stone is a person."
An involuntary smile crept up my face before I could stop it.
Your voice was smooth, deep and comforting.
And I'm almost sure that I can listen to it for the rest of my life.
YOU ARE READING
Stones
Romance"My mind is a graveyard and I'm praying for gravediggers." (C O P Y R I G H T © 2 0 1 4)
