Love Amidst the Gravestones
I found myself standing in the graveyard with flowers again. It wasn’t even a particularly nice graveyard. It was just a place where people’s bodies were delivered when they died. I was one of two exceptions and I was here for a kiss.
The first time I had seen Mary was at my father’s funeral two years ago. A pale, curious girl hiding behind the trunk of a massive oak tree that towered over the proceedings. She obviously didn’t belong there but she had shyly smiled at me and I had kept quiet. I was too preoccupied with supporting my mother and making sure the arrangements were in order to talk to her. It wasn’t until later, after all of the well-wishers had left, that I had the opportunity to meet her. It was the first of many meetings between us.
Now I was here again, roses in hand, spending another Saturday night in the Westwood Memorial Cemetery. My friends joked that I was dating a ghost. Mary wasn’t a ghost. She was just a strange girl that hung out in this graveyard. And tonight she owed me a kiss.