With his arms wrapped around his legs, on the mushy earth covered with soggy leaves Dan sat. He had been staring into space for at least the past twenty minutes. He visited this place everyday. He didn't know what to do with his life since it happened. Phil was gone and Dan would never be able to see him again.
Initially Dan hadn't been able to stop crying but now all he felt was emptiness. He couldn't cry; there wasn't enough energy left in him to cry. There were no more tears. He hadn't spoken in days; he hadn't eaten in even longer. He couldn't feel the bitterly cold wind against his face and body as winter crept ever closer. He just sat there, on Phil's fresh grave, being close to the headstone, staring into space, unable to think about anything. His mind was numb. His body was numb.
He came out of his daze, and ran his hands through the grass and damp earth. Digging his fingers into the ground and squeezing. The grass was too green. It had too much life in it. It was disrespectful to flash such vitality around Phil's final resting place. Dan began to furiously rip and pull up the grass and earth around him until he had formed a sort of moat around him. He stopped and went back to staring at nothing.
