The saddest sight you'll ever see is a freshly covered grave. Droplets of freshly melting snow covered the smooth, marble tombstone. He ran his fingers over the words; his eyes blurred with unshed tears. Bright morning light reflected streams of light into his eyes, as he stubbornly refused to cry. But sometimes crying is all you can do.

"You broke the cycle," he said.

He glared at his hands. Hands that didn't - couldn't - save the woman he loved. He furiously wiped his eyes, and glanced at the stone protruding from the ground before moving away.

'Natalie Isanti Demino.'