I walked, hands shoved deep in my pockets, trying to escape the February cold. My breath showed in the air, taking form of little crystallized droplets that faded away instantly. The graveyard was silent and eerily peaceful. Isn’t it always?

Call me weird, sue me, if you like. I enjoy taking walks amongst thousands of dead people. I visited the graves that were related to me; Grandpa, Grandma and so on.

There was a little church nestled in one of the corners of the graveyard. I went and made a short prayer, lit a candle and sat on the rim of a fountain with angels.

I looked up at one of the statues. It was an angel crying out, stony tears streaming down a very perfect, picturesque face.
“Sadness, huh? Don’t we have enough of it, already?” I sighed, my breath coming in great puffs;
“I’m lonely”, I remarked, surprising even myself. The statue seemed to smile.

I heard a distant yelp and got up. I wandered the yards a bit.
Then, I spotted a cardboard box. I walked up to it.

Inside was a puppy.