It's been a year since Leon's been gone.

All that year, you've tried tirelessly to find someone like him. Searching for his hands in other people's touches, caressing other people's wheat hair, imagining for a moment that it was him again. His warmth, his voice.

But always returning to his grave, crying tears and realising that all your attempts to forget him are just self-deception, trying to find a replacement. But in vain.

You were never together. Only partners before he was reported missing. And then dead.

You knew you were coming to an empty coffin, and you clutched the damp post-rain earth heavily, kneeling down in front of the headstone, apologising as if you were betraying him every time, dreaming of finding happiness with someone else.

But the feeling of someone staring at your back kept her on her toes.