Stone found my little outburst amusing because he rubbed his jaw as a small smile graced his features.

"Green is definitely your colour." He stated before explaining "It is not just your hair. It is your whole aura. You shine green."

The rest of the drive went by quickly with traded insults and a few backward compliments. His company almost erased the building up of dread in my stomach.

He also stopped my leg from shaking by putting a hand on top of my thigh. His generously sized hand squeezed the skin on my thigh in reassurance.

I laid my hand on top of his that rested on my leg for a short second before he had to pull away and drive with both hands.

The truck pulled up at the start of the dirt trail pathway leading up to the cemetery. I took my seatbelt off and avoided the penetrating gaze as I focused on the forest of tombstones.

As I clutched the door handle to get out, he stopped me in my tracks by putting an arm on my shoulder to make me face him.

His voice was low and gravelly "Do you want me to come with you?"

I shook my head once and I gave him a small smile "I will be fine."

Stone had already gone out of his way to drive me to the cemetery. I was not going to make him sit with me as I sulked. That would be weird, no matter how much I wanted him there.

He nodded once and looked anywhere but me as I climbed out of the truck.

Willow Cemetery was a large graveyard outside of the city with a number of about fifty thousand people buried there. Sometimes you would see relatives of the deceased scurry the rows of graves just to find their loved ones in the vast space.

Fortunately, I did not have that problem. My mother's grave was under the very namesake of this whole place which was the willow tree at the very start of the green land.

A shadow was cast over me as I walked under the great leaves of the tree. I kneeled down on the damp grass and placed the flowers next to the headstone.

They managed to brighten up the small space and I admired the beauty of them as I ran my finger along the engrained words.

Lauren Miller.

To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.

Beloved Wife, Mother and Friend.

A lone tear made its way down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly because something behind the memorial caught my eye.

An empty bottle of alcohol. More specifically whisky. The kind that my Dad drunk.

He came and visited her at least. Just not in his normal state of my mind. I told myself that bad company was worse than no company at all to remind myself to not to be too disheartened at his absence.