The cemetery is more or less completely empty today. There are a few scattered families, but other than that I am alone. It is much too lovely a day for most families to spend in a quiet place like this. Even Elicia is not with me today; instead, she is at Tabitha's. But it is of no matter to me; I have something of importance to do today.
The roses I picked out to lay on your headstone are beautiful, striking red without a single wilted petal. The thorns have been lovingly plucked off, the stems wrapped in crisp white paper and tied with a ribbon. They are flawlessly perfect-looking, the perfect gift for a loved one. Against the dull granite, they look like a shining gem.
There are things to done first, of course. I clean your grave, removing bits of dead leaves and dirt that cling to the stone. I lay out a photo of Elicia and prop it in front of your name. I smile a little at our daughter's face, and proceed to line up a series of photographs, until they form a tiny army.
And then I talk to you. I tell you about Roy's work, and Edward's resolve. I inform you about Winry's visit to Central, and how Elicia read a certain book on her own. I talk to you until I realize that I am the only one left in the cemetery. The sun has already started to set, and I know Elicia is waiting for me to pick her up at Tabitha's.
I stand up and wipe the dirt off my skirt. But just then I realize that I am wrong, that I am not the only person left in the cemetery—an old woman is slowly making her way across the jumble of rocks and dirt. I hurry over to help her, and she nods her thanks.
"My dear, I am indebted to you," she says when we part at the gates. "Thank you."
"No, it's nothing at all," I answer. "I am glad to offer my help."
She pauses a moment. "Who was it that you were visiting today?"
"My husband," I answer. "He passed away while in service."
The woman looks stricken, before shaking her head. "I'm sorry. It must have been hard on you."
"It was," I admit. "But I've learned to move on. I know he wouldn't want us staying in the same spot forever. And I'm sure that he's still watching us, from above." I tilt my head upwards. "Even right now."
The crone gives a wrinkled smile. "I'm sure he is, my dear."
"Yes." I wave good-bye to her, and watch as she hobbles her way across the streets of Central. And then I turn up to the sky again, and add something more. "I live and move on because I know that we will definitely meet and be together again once more…Maes."
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Wordcount: 501
.fragment of existence.