Drip. Drip.

"It's raining." I remarked.

Silence.

Always, silence.

The grass was damp beneath my shoes. I could feel the moisture soaking in through my soles. I didn't find that I cared.

My umbrella was deflecting most of the rain, but it was tilted back so I could see you in front of me. The water ran down my face.

I suppose it's poetic, this moment. Fresh water from the heavens mingling with my own salt tears.

"It's always raining." I said.

You said nothing.

"I thought of bringing you flowers, but they would've gotten soaked on the way here."

The rain fell. The clouds moaned, the wind screamed.

You slept in your grave.

As always.