Andrew’s dirty shovel hit the compacted ground roughly as his pale palms pressed into the leather handle to dig further into the earth. A small frown bloomed on his lips as he leaned against the shovel, forcing his weight down onto it. Soft rustling of leafs surrounded him in the chilly air of the graveyard.

Chills graced his spin as his hands trembled from the cold, his nose turning a flushed pink as snow flakes settled on his shoulders. A quiet sigh escaped his chapped lips before his red eyes traveled to the epitaphs near him. His irises looping around the words and marking them down inside his head.

He startled at the loud sound of a howl. His fingernails dug deeper into the handle of his tool before he hunched into himself. His hourglass slowly running out being he went back inside the temple quietly. His steps echoing throughout the yard.