A whisper rustled the leaves while a young woman walked. Headed into the cemetery; she swaddled flowers in her arms. Careful not to drop them but unknowingly abusing the wilted bouquet with her devastated grip. And as she kept on walking the lampposts began to flicker on. One by one they lit the winding stepping stones and splashes of indigo stained the sliver of sun cradled beyond the horizon. Not afraid of the dark. She had nothing left to lose. She had already lost something so precious to her. Something irreplaceable that she waited for in a long grueling process. She did it alone. And alone she was again.