I knew he wasn't coming back. Not this time. He'd avenged her now. And the wrongs things were put right.
The cemetery was dreary as usual, but not their graves. Their love trailed even into the afterlife and radiated from their rotting corpses. The coldest of hearts would be moved just standing at their grave.
I laid the bouquet out atop the damp ground. The headstone in front of me read Shelley Webster. The white rose in my hand was for him. I looked over, almost expecting the crow to be there. His messenger.
But he wasn't. I knew better. That crow had other places to be and souls to carry. I set the rose on the ground and grinned.
"Later you guys," I mumbled. "I'm leaving this dump. Going to L.A." After a little wave, I turned and began walking from whence I came.
The small breeze that lifted through my hair carried a whisper. "Sarah." Perhaps, even friendship could survive beyond the grave.