A tall figure stands in the shadow of a great tree, head bowed. From the fingers of one hand a few blooming stems dangle, half-forgotten as he reads the words incised upon the stone at his feet.
A few errant drops cut through the trees, dragging occasional leaves from the green clusters overhead. They fall like tears unnoticed on the man's shirt as he stoops awkwardly and lays the flowers at the base of the stone.
"I miss you, Pete. Things just aren't the same without you."
In a shaft of sunlight, falling drops become glowing jewels.
