Kneeling down at Carl's grave, she touched the vase of withering flowers with shaking fingertips and whispered "We all miss you so very much."
The cold wind gusted around her and her hair blew freely whipping her face, but always unnoticed, beyond the reach and feel of her thoughts. Silent tears fell, dripping from her cheeks onto the cold stone.
She took out her scissors, feeling along the sharp edge with her fingers. Leaning forward, she began cutting the long stems of her new bright flowers to size. She sniffed at the vase, smelling the water, putrid and yellow tinged.