"It looks like the funeral service is over. Now can we go see?" Fletcher begged with a pleading expression. Sure enough the minuscule crowd was in the midst of heading back to their vehicles, abandoning the occupied casket. The working crew had began cleaning up by stacking chairs and replacing disposable tissue packets. Shortly after Skye gave in and agreed to visit the tombstone. The pair folded their checkered blanket and placed it atop their wicker basket, carrying it with them.
Creasing the small note, Skye tucked it into her side pocket. Crossing over to the site was no short stroll and required full attention to be wary of unorganised patterns of headstones. Nick the edge of one just right and down you go.
The duo shared no conversation but could discreetly feel the atmosphere shift in the most uncomforting of ways. The closer they got, the stronger the sensation. Upon finally reaching their destination, Skye could have sworn she witnessed the ground disintegrate, the wind pushing her now weak body to its knees.
Double, triple checking the engraved name, unshed tears caressed her cheeks. She quickly whipped out the yellow paper, unfolding the contents and reading the cursive handwriting. Her lungs seemed to have involved in her scene, as they began hyperventilating to the point of heavy gasping. She quite literally was a fish out of water.
Fletcher, taking notice, kneeled down beside the weeping girl, wrapped his arms around her, and allowed watery drops of pain to find their way onto his shirt. He once again played with her hair, a movement she found complete solace in. Glancing at the headstone which read the name of who he assumed to be an elderly man, purely based off his birth date, he could only guess that Skye knew who this person was.
Although confused, Fletcher let her brawling draw to a close before asking her why she was upset. Her only response was to lift up the yellow page which housed a single word; "Forgiven".
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