Dusk is for Melancholy Lovers

The sun was setting fast. Weak golden rays of sunlight melted into the horizon. The crisp autumn leaves crunched under my feet as I walked hand in hand with my lover. His grip was as soothing as the cool breeze that ruffled my hair and caressed my nose. The bare, twisted branches of trees swayed above our heads in silence. As I opened my mouth to talk, the deep droning of a church bell sounded, tolling the sun to go down. I could not speak anymore, for the bell had taken away my voice and the touch of my lover as well. Darkness flooded into sight, replacing the sun. The breeze shifted, and I was alone. But I continued to walk until I reached a thick white stone that rose up from the earth. Slowly, I knelt down beside it and placed my fingers on the name of my lover, who lay entombed in this burial ground.