Conrad rested his palm against the cool, smooth granite. The wind kicked up stray leaves as the barren branches swayed. He closed his eyes against the incoming rain. He didn’t need to read the words or dates since he already knew them by heart. Instead, he let his mind drift to memories of the first time they’d met. He’d been wholly unprepared standing in the sterile hospital room. Medical staff raced about, shouting in a language of their own. Then there she was, the calm amidst the chaos. Seeing her brought the world back into focus. An acute reminder for him to breathe.

He inhaled a shaky breath as an icy drop of rain ran down his neck and under his collar. The discomfort was a poignant memento of being alive — of a heart that still worked. A noise drew his attention away from the misery, and his eyes snapped open. The whir of a car’s motor announced his time was up, but he didn’t move.

An older gentleman, stooped with age, walked among the dead, one foot dragging along the paved path. The car honked, and the man glanced that way before turning to Conrad.

“Be careful with your mourning, or you might forget the living,” he said, gesturing at the tombstone with his cane.

Conrad would never stop grieving the daughter he’d lost.

“We’re gonna be late, Dad,” Silvy said.

A smile tugged at his lips. 

It was time to answer the call of the child who’d survived.

Word: leaf | Action: drift