In early May, visitors to the town cemetery began to notice a young boy—no more than ten—who appeared every day without fail. He would go to the same grave, sit quietly beside the headstone, and then, with a trembling voice, cry out to the sky:
“She’s not here! She’s still alive!”
People pitied him. They assumed he was simply heartbroken, refusing to accept his mother’s passing. Surely, they thought, with time he would come to terms with her death.
