My eyes squinted with laughter. I loved the story she was telling. Her blonde hair flowing like a river, now white and salt and peppered, framing the crevices in her face. She smiled and coughed, her hand reaching out for support. I held her as I read her eulogy, the rain mingling with the dirt above her tomb.

The rain hits the back of my neck, my eyes blacken when my time has run out too.