The rain is deafening on my umbrella as I sit down on the bench in front of his grave. There’s two, almost dead roses sitting next to him in a dark vase. They’re both from me. My eyes trace the raindrops as they they fall down onto the gravestone and leave tracks in the dirt, illuminated only by moonlight. I hear footsteps walking down the path toward me, but I only look up when I see the stranger place a new flower in the vase mine shared. The person continued to stand there, just looking at the gravestone, for a few minutes before turning toward me and sitting next to me on the bench. We sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“How’d you know him?” The person asked quietly. It was a boy, around my age.

“My brother. You?” I asked.

“I was his roommate in college.” He murmured. I turned my head slightly to look at him. His hair was soaked with rainwater, and I couldn’t tell if he was crying, or it was just the rain on his face. I shifted my body and umbrella to be covering both of us, and I propped my leg up on the bench, resting my chin on it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him look at me. I turn to meet his gaze, and we just observe each other for a moment, my head resting on my knee.

“I’m Matt.” He says softly.

“Eliana.” I reply.

He scoots closer to me and rests his head on my shoulder.

“It’s going to get better. Right?” He asks

“I hope so.” I mutter, slipping my hand into his.