With the Rain
A car drives into the cemetery and slows to a stop after having barely entered. The driver shifts the stick into neutral and applies the parking brake before turning off the engine. He withdraws the keys from the ignition and places them in his coat’s pocket. His left hand opens the door while his right reaches into the passenger seat and picks up the bouquet resting on the seat.
The man exits the car and the coattails of his trench coat nearly touch the ground. His gaze drifts upwards to the dark gray clouds, figuring it was going to rain soon. He locks the door and shuts it before heading deeper into the cemetery. The bouquet of flowers were a mixture of red roses and irises, resting against his stomach and held by his left hand.
His hazel eyes scan the tombstones, not focusing on the names, just the mere existence that had been lost due to a variety of natural and unnatural causes. He starts looking ahead and to his left, his destination. Clenching his jaws, he walks slowly down the road until it intersected with another heading towards the headstone he wanted to go to.
After passing a few rows of tombstones, he gets off the road and passes three tombstones before stopping at the fourth. He bends down and places the bouquet in front of the headstone, his trench coat falling over itself due to its length. The man’s eyes stare at the name, and his right index finger traces the name engraved on it. J-E-S-S-I-C-A M-I-L-L-E-R. He looks at the dates written beneath it, even though he knows them by heart. Born, 7-18-1981. Deceased, 5-8-2006.
With his jaw clenching together, he tries not to cry, memories of the night he found out washing over his mind like the tide on a shore. He remembers how he had hoped it wasn’t true, how he wished the police were lying and playing a joke. He was sure that it hadn’t happened, that she had been all right and not involved, that she had hid and was safe and sound. Even though he knew better.
Raising his left hand, he looks at the ring on it. He kisses the ring and bows his head. He doesn’t even notice that the sky had darkened more and started to sprinkle down on him. He takes a few steps back, pushing his coattails out of the way so he doesn’t fall over, then bends down to the ground and gently kisses it, around the area he figured was where her lips would be. His right hand gently caresses the grass that had just started to grow over the grave, to his mind, caressing her cheek as he had done so often.
The sprinkles strengthen until it becomes rain, pushing his hair down and soaking his body. He blinks as droplets rolling down his hair get to his eyelashes. More droplets fall off his hair to his cheek, where gravity pulls it down to fall off his chin and land over the grave. He turns his head up to the sky, slightly wondering if the angels were crying for him… and if she was there with them, mourning the separation.
The man exits the car and the coattails of his trench coat nearly touch the ground. His gaze drifts upwards to the dark gray clouds, figuring it was going to rain soon. He locks the door and shuts it before heading deeper into the cemetery. The bouquet of flowers were a mixture of red roses and irises, resting against his stomach and held by his left hand.
His hazel eyes scan the tombstones, not focusing on the names, just the mere existence that had been lost due to a variety of natural and unnatural causes. He starts looking ahead and to his left, his destination. Clenching his jaws, he walks slowly down the road until it intersected with another heading towards the headstone he wanted to go to.
After passing a few rows of tombstones, he gets off the road and passes three tombstones before stopping at the fourth. He bends down and places the bouquet in front of the headstone, his trench coat falling over itself due to its length. The man’s eyes stare at the name, and his right index finger traces the name engraved on it. J-E-S-S-I-C-A M-I-L-L-E-R. He looks at the dates written beneath it, even though he knows them by heart. Born, 7-18-1981. Deceased, 5-8-2006.
With his jaw clenching together, he tries not to cry, memories of the night he found out washing over his mind like the tide on a shore. He remembers how he had hoped it wasn’t true, how he wished the police were lying and playing a joke. He was sure that it hadn’t happened, that she had been all right and not involved, that she had hid and was safe and sound. Even though he knew better.
Raising his left hand, he looks at the ring on it. He kisses the ring and bows his head. He doesn’t even notice that the sky had darkened more and started to sprinkle down on him. He takes a few steps back, pushing his coattails out of the way so he doesn’t fall over, then bends down to the ground and gently kisses it, around the area he figured was where her lips would be. His right hand gently caresses the grass that had just started to grow over the grave, to his mind, caressing her cheek as he had done so often.
The sprinkles strengthen until it becomes rain, pushing his hair down and soaking his body. He blinks as droplets rolling down his hair get to his eyelashes. More droplets fall off his hair to his cheek, where gravity pulls it down to fall off his chin and land over the grave. He turns his head up to the sky, slightly wondering if the angels were crying for him… and if she was there with them, mourning the separation.
posted by Jenos Ide at 2:31 PM
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