It was a cloudy november day in this southern town. Jonathan's steps guided him along the dirt and dry leaf paths with a bitter expertise and a hint of actual enjoyment. He couldn't deny his preference for cemeteries, so dull yet so full of emotions. Roaming around like a ghost in complete utter silence was a hobby of his in any other cemetery. However, this cemetery had something that differentiated it from all other ones: his abusive grandmother rested in pieces here.

He wouldn't go, if it were for him her grave would be abandoned and in a state of pure filth, but there was something ever so tempting about making sure it was well kept and visiting it every year. A triumphant statement that showed his grandma that HE was much more humane that she ever was.

The sound of another set of wet and crunchy footsteps perked up Jonathan's ears and pulled him out of his thoughts, and when he turned his head he was met with an infatuating image, of a serene young person bringing a bouquet of flowers to a grave. He wouldn't approach and talk just like that, but the beauty before him and the calm displayed... It was all magnetic... Perhaps this person would like to walk with him to his grandmother's crypt...

"Those are beautiful flowers" Jonathan spoke softly, as to not startle them.