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Moon-kissed stones stood silent sentry.

Dark grey granite, chipped and cracked by decades of weathering, leaned against each other, propped up like tired and wounded soldiers, but still displaying a quiet dignity.  Sudden flashes shown along stone as the moon touched upon inner flaws, displaying the living heart of the cold monuments.

Nearby, newer stones, no less solemn, paced straight and monotonous in row after row, smooth surfaces dully reflecting the moonlight back.

As silent as a whisper, a figure crossed the expanse of neglected grounds, slowly approaching a newly birthed monument.  A trembling hand ghosted over the words now forever ingrained upon the flat surface before gathering into a fist, almost as if it hated the very touch of a thing created because of a loss.

With a sound half between a sob and a curse, knees contacted freshly turned earth, the scent of crushed grass and leaves still heavy in the air.  Delicately, reverently, fingertips traced each letter upon the stone, and the soil became dampened as slow tears fell.

"I miss you."  The words were breathed into the air as if afraid they would shatter this perfect stillness, and the mourner bowed, forehead to stone in silent communion.  A sudden shudder, and in a graceful movement, the figure rose and glided away as quietly as it had come.

Silence once more descended, creeping back to claim the stones as its own.  A breath of wind whipped through the seldom visited cemetery, stirring the grass and gently brushing across the single flower left upon the grave.  A hand reached down and scooped the fragile blossom up, and a soft voice whispered, "I miss you, too."

End.