I greeted his tombstone the way I always did—with a swift kick. The release of frustration was more than worth the sharp pain in my toes. The polished marble tilted to the left because of all my visits; a crooked tooth in the rows of pearly white graves.
I folded my legs under me, shuddering as the chill of the damp grass seeped through my clothes. “I keep hoping one of these days you’ll be here waiting for me.” The words were tradition. I couldn’t keep myself from hoping I’d come over the hill to find him leaning over his grave, wearing a sly smile. He died so very long ago, but I couldn’t stop wishing.
I leaned my head against my knees, longing for a few minutes of rest. A few minutes to pretend it was someone else buried beneath me. I tried to explain this to him, but tonight I didn’t have the will to pretend it was more than starlight that listened.
It took a long time to notice, building imperceptibly until I finally looked over my shoulder. Someone was there, watching me. It hadn’t been a sound that alerted me so much as the feel of someone’s gaze, heavy in the darkness. After so many nights spent here, I knew the difference.For just a second, I thought I saw Frederick’s tall form step from the shadows. My heart stopped and I started to scramble to my feet before the breeze scattered my wishful thinking.
(Also, why does livejournal have such a fit when I try to paste stuff in? I mean, obviously I'm doing the pasting, right? random...)