I rest my hand on hers, “you’re cold my love.” I look out along the horizon. It’s quiet, except from the sound of the waves slowly lapping against the cliffs. The grass along the banks sways in the light breeze, dandelion wishes dance through them, the green swirls and whirls. The gods lower their fiery torch into the sea, slowly extinguishing the light. Oranges, reds, yellows are painted across the sky, mixing as clouds stir slightly over head. “Red sky at night,” I smile, “shepards delight.” I laugh slightly, “I guess it’s a good day to be alive.” I feel the earth beneath me, it’s hard, sturdy, like the side board of a coffin. I grip the edge of the cliff still holding her hand. I look to my right and run my hand over the earth a flower pushing through as I shift the dirt. “A chrysanthemum” I smile looking down at it. I pull it from the earth and hold it in my hand then glance back towards the horizon. I just missed it. “Oh well, the sun will rise and set tomorrow.” A light breeze ran through my hair and up my spine. I place the flower in her hand then push my self up, pressing the palms of my hand into the hard cliff side. I look back to ‘her’ before I leave. The hand rests on the ground holding the flower. Cold and blue.