One stormy evening, wind lashed the street as thunder rolled over the hills. Ellen caught a flicker of movement by the side gate. A figure was slipping through, small against the rain. Her stomach twisted. Without thinking, she grabbed her keys and drove toward the cemetery, tires slicing through puddles.
The gate creaked when she pushed it open. Lightning flashed, illuminating rows of headstones like pale sentinels. Ahead, a lone figure knelt before Sam’s grave. Ellen froze, heart pounding so loudly she thought it might give her away. The person’s shoulders trembled, rain pooling in the folds of their coat.