They follow

I go to funerals in tall boots and trench coats. They were what he would wear, what he would see. We use to jump in puddles him and I we use to run on the sea, only to find the mystery behind us instead of in front, we played Sherlock for us to breathe but his journey ended early and I still alive with my boots and trench coats at funerals, while he is cold under the sea, slowly drifting falling with his trench coats and boots always following him and now they follow only me.

—Terra