i have no idea what this is. i got bored, and started writing. it is probably crappy, and ooc, and this topic has been done to death, but eh. i posted it anyway.

i have been gone from here for ages, and i am still trying to write a sequel to tears are the silent language of grief. but it is slow going. it might happen, eventually.

The flowers were held in her left hand, at her side.

Bright, alive, and happy.

Everything they weren't. Together.

It seemed wrong to be in the place she was.

With the person she was there for.

It was too soon.

Too soon for him to be taken.

Too soon for her to lose him.

Was that selfish?
Or was she just human.

She didn't know anymore.

She slowly knelt to the ground.

Placing the flowers on the piece of stone in front of her.

The colours seeming brighter against the dark grey.

Her finger brushed over the engraved words:

Michael Sandrelli.

He was taken too soon.

From her. From everyone.