She walked up to the grave slowly, knees trembling, footfalls unsure on ground that seemed ready to spin away under her. There was no one around: the church was fallen into disrepair, the graveyard disused, overgrown, forgotten.
"It's been a long time." There were no flowers to lay down; her hands stayed in her pockets. "Fifty years? Sixty?"
Swirling leaves were a halo of yellow and orange and red around her, slipping past her as she stood, pinning against the tree, wedging against the headstone. She didn't bend down to clear them away.
"Maybe you've forgotten. But I never will."