The Man at the Cemetery

Short Story by D.A. Tilney

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I hadn’t planned on visiting the cemetery when I left for school that morning. Maybe it was the clear blue sky after a week of dismal rain, or the chickadee’s funny little song that greeted me as soon as I stepped outside (they had always been Nana’s favorite birds, after all), or perhaps I just couldn’t stomach the idea of sitting in a windowless lecture hall on such a beautiful day.

Regardless of the precise why, I find myself taking the cemetery exit at the last possible second. Nana’s been gone for over a month, but I can still hear her voice telling me: “You should be more spontaneous, Lizzie.” I only wish I had followed her advice while she’d still been alive.