A soft, calm breeze blew across the cemetery. It rustled the short grass, blowing about the fallen leaves from the few trees that dotted the serene site. The sun hung high overhead, with not a single cloud in the sky to mar the perfect blue. It was a beautiful day, one that contrasted highly with the somber nature of the place.

A black sedan pulled up from the road and parked by the curb. Emerging from the vehicle was a tall man well into his middle age. His stature was stiff, his posture straight. Black, graying hair was combed immaculately, his face smooth and freshly shaven. He wore his Sunday best, a three-piece navy blue suit, neatly pressed, with a crisp white shirt and a black silk tie. On his feet were a pair of dress shoes that were mirror-shined. The dark round lenses of his sunglasses covered his deep brown eyes, eyes that were red and moist with recent emotion. The sun reflected off the silver wedding band on his left ring finger.

The man stepped onto the grass, the shiny dress shoes squelching the green grass beneath them. He moved forwards with a purpose, beginning his trek past the various tombstones with unfamiliar names. In his hand was a bouquet of tulips, covered carefully in plastic wrapping that depicted the name of a nearby flower shop. He made his way towards the center of the graveyard, passing by the final resting places of those long lost as well as those of the more recently parted.

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The suited man soon arrived at his destination. His gaze solemnly stared down at the small, nondescript grave marker, a dark gray mound of stone that had started to show the wearing of time along its edges. Bold letters were etched upon the stone, forming the name of one he was intimately familiar with.

Anna Lee

Sep. 03, 1977 - Aug. 18, 2018

He knelt down on one knee, placing the flowers against the headstone. His hand moved up, fingers tracing the letters lovingly. After a few moments of silent contemplation, the man rose back to his feet, his eyes never leaving the grave. He stood there in silence for several long minutes, ignoring the gently blowing breeze and the warm noontime sun. The beauty of the day never reached him as he continued to stand there, quietly staring.

Eventually, the man removed his sunglasses, stuffing them into his pocket. His eyes were wet now, dripping in sorrow. The tears ran down his freshly shaven cheeks and dripped onto the grass below. He took a deep, shaky breath, over and over. He gasped and sobbed as if each breath was a pain not worth living through.

Soon enough, the tears stopped and he wiped at his eyes with shaking hands.

“I tried my best, Anna,” he said to the wind, voice shaking with misery. “I really, really did try.”

He took a long, wheezing breath then reached into his coat pocket.

“I miss you.”

He pressed the barrel of the gun against the side of his head.

He squeezed the trigger.

There was an explosion of light and sound.

Then nothing.