Clara
I never imagined a grave could make me feel so many things at once: pain, guilt, emptiness, love…
I stand before my father's name carved into a cold stone, a stone everyone tells me I've visited before, that I cried here, that I said goodbye to him… That I promised him I'd move on.
But I don't remember, and I think that's the part that hurts the most.
I clutch the flowers tightly in my hands, my breath trembling. My eyes trace each letter of his name over and over, as if at any moment my mind will react.
As if an image will appear, as if he can see me on my knees here, crying for him.
But nothing happens, there is only silence.
"Dad…"
My voice comes out so low that even the wind seems to carry it away.
I swallow hard.
"Everyone tells me I came here to say goodbye to you."
