The cold air made her shiver, and she pulled the large overcoat around her shoulders. They shook when her sobs racked through her body, and she clutched the locket around her neck.
A hand reached to take hers, and she fell to the ground in front of the grave. She stopped crying and sat there, looking dejected and tired, not uttering a sound.
Her shoulders sagged, and she just sat there, gazing at the tombstone.
The dark-haired man above bent down to pick her up and she put her arms around her neck, and let herself be carried away.
A crow cacawed in the distance, and the wind picked up once more, displacing leaves on the little hill that sat under the cold winter sun. The bells in the nearby church rang, and the girl in the man's arms raised her head to look back at the only part of her past that mattered. A branch on the tree above it waved, as if to say goodbye, one last time. But, as everyone knew, she would always come back.
Until she herself died, she would go back to his grave, and back to the man she loved.
Until her death, she would never leave the man that her soul had died for.
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Sweetness should be spelled with a z
Peace.