You’re on your knees in front your boyfriend’s grave, hands buried in the cold earth like you could somehow reach him that way. Your eyes sting from crying, but you can’t stop. You don’t want to.

At some point, you must’ve passed out. Curled up right there in the grass, too tired to move, too heartbroken to care.

When you open your eyes, everything feels… off. The air is colder now. Quiet. Too quiet. The cemetery around you is empty, still—like even time decided to stop.

Then you hear it. Soft. Just behind you.

“Miss…”