Prose: A Fragment
Even full moon took an ashen light as he stood by her grave. Lauren waited respectfully away, her hands clasped, watching with sympathy but not interfering. He stared at the earth, covered in grass, the headstone was well worn but still readable. He traced his fingers across the marble, then held himself still as the faintest echoes of wind-chimes brushed his hearing.
“I remember,” He said.
The wind picked up the loose leaves, their browns and reds washed out into shadows as they swirled around Kevlar. He pulled his jacket tighter, feeling the leather stretch and creak slightly as his fingers gripped tight. He closed his eyes letting the cold settle down over him. The wind-chimes sounded softly again and the wind stilled. Even the darkness pauses, he thought. The world slowed for a moment as he knelt and placed a single red rose, made black by the night, at the base of the grave.
“I still remember,” He whispered.
The wind picked back up swirling the fallen leaves around him as the wind-chimes picked up in volume. His hair fell over his face as he bowed his head down to the leaves and dust kicked up. Then he stood up and kissed the top of the gravestone. He turned and walked a couple of steps, then turned back to face the grave,
“I’ll always remember.”
“Happy Anniversary, Rhee,”
