The rain has lost the ambient temperature of early fall, freezing and paling on her skin on contact. The path through the graveyard is muddy water in motion, filling deep puddles that hide the ruts of drier weather. To feel it isn't enjoyment, not fun like the gentle sunshine of springtime, the rain falling in crazy chaotic drops, the gusting wind carrying them in wild vortexes one moment and in diagonal sheets the next. The droplets mingle with the tears on Grayson’s face, salty tracks blending in with sky fallen trickles. Only the pinkness of her eyes give any clue to her sadness and in this city, who will look hard enough to tell? Her damp sneakers hit the cobblestone pathway, the route there and back ingrained in her, and the diffused gray light of the darkening sky emanates just enough for her to where she was going. The rolls of ominous thunder and flashes of lightning echoed around Grayson, her heart beating almost as loud as the electric strike. Grayson could almost hear her parents chiding her, telling her that she shouldn’t be walking around in the tumultuous thunderstorm, but all common sense was thrown into the roaring wind. It was February 28.

Finally, Grayson turned the cobblestone corner and slid through the old gateway. The Carsons’ owned family property, property that Grayson was allowed on at all times, for their families were the best of friends. Observing the landscape, she saw the rolling fields and neat rows of neat markers in a neat order. She would've hated it. Following the footworn pathway, one Grayson had memorized far too long ago, she sank under a weeping willow, shielding herself from the sheets of silver rain, and finding the marble marker labeled:

Sawyer Carson

February 28 1997-September 21 2016
A Loved Daughter and Friend

Grayson smiled, tracing her finger over the already worn letters.

“I’m trying to remember the first time… back when it all started. We were so young and careless. We had no idea of the world of obstacles ahead of us. I always think, if you knew then what you know now, would you still choose me? Would you still share your deepest secrets?” Grayson asked, thinking back to when they were younger. Sawyer, the fiery, wild child, with flaming hair to match her spirit and the clearest of blue eyes, shining with overspilling emotions. One minute, laughing a contagious laugh, the sound of wind chimes ringing through the air, the next minute, silent as the air before a storm, lips forming a perfected pout and tears threatening to spill over. And then there was Grayson, quiet, mysterious, similar to a puzzle that was nearly impossible to solve. Nearly. Somehow, Sawyer figured out the combination of locks and keys and became her best friend.