The wind brushed through the woman’s hair softly making her cheeks puff up before blowing the strands out of her face. It was the beginnings of winter, the air getting crisper with each day. She adjusts her gloves then begins to lower herself down to the grass, a thin sheet of frost covers it which in turn soaks her pants but she pays little mind to it. She stares at the headstone in front of her, follows the indentation of letters one by one then checks them with her fingers, pressing softly into the cold stone. It was in reality to check if it were real, not that she doubted it but maybe, just maybe she had had a mental break and imagined the last year.

Though the cold of the stone was real, the wind against her rosy cheeks was real, the water that drenched her bottom was real. She sighs, eyes watering but doesn’t let them fall. She lets them fill just enough then tilts her head back and blinks quickly. When her vision clears, she sees a woman staring down at her, her own long red hair almost brushing her forehead. The woman sitting jumps.

“How did you know her?” The woman doesn’t apologize, she just sits down next to her as she asks the question. She places a thick bouquet on the ground.

“She was… is, my best friend. What about you?” Her voice is quiet, quivering, lowly scolding herself for it.

“My sister” it’s plain, simple, right to the point. There is hint of any emotion but the other woman’s eyes widen, she tries to talk about nothing comes out. So she looks back at the headstone and takes a second.

“I didn’t know she had a sister,” she chuckles lowly “and I just called her my best friend”

“No one knew” the red headed woman looks at her “we were never close, I didn’t even go to the funeral.”

“Then why come now?” The question is fast, not even meant to be spoken so quickly she adds “sorry that was rude, you don’t have to answer”

The red headed woman just stares at the headstone. Now that she looks at the other she can see the resemblance, the arc of the nose and the big round eyes. Neither speak, for some reason it is comfortable.

“I never really was one to react to death” the red head begins “it is concrete but also spontaneous. You knew know which breath will be your last. I was never sad when anyone died, I never understood why others were. Death is just one of many endings, who’s to say it’s the last?”

She tilts her head towards the other woman, a small smirk on her lips. She realizes then why she’s so comfortable with this person despite the wind being freezing, her ass is soaked and her hair won’t stay out of her face.

“I’m Anna” she doesn’t answer the question but she doesn’t believe it was meant to be answered.

“Nice to meet you Anna, I’m Macy”