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The rain was pouring down on you. Fitting, you thought. As cliche as it was, rain was only appropriate.
You ran a hand through your hair, tugged it a little. It was good to feel something. Since you’d heard the news you’d been horribly numb. Without even the closure of a funeral, you hadn’t exactly processed her death in any capacity. But as you stared down at the small headstone, marked only with her name, that numbness began to ebb back into a gut-wrenching pain.
The anguish was all-consuming. You fell to your knees and touched the engraving all your first tears began to spill. You hadn’t cried for her yet, but now you idly wondered if you could ever stop.
“Nat,” you whispered. “Natasha. Please. Please.”
You couldn’t help the choked sob that followed. Rainwater mingled with the tears you were blinking back. After a minute more of sobs, you found your words.
“Please… I need you. I think I’m going crazy without you. Please.”
The only answer was the rush of the rain.