the graveyard

The breeze touches your face with its soft yet chilly fingers. Your eyes adjust to the darkness a little more; you spot a person cleaning a gravestone. They don't seem to notice that you are there, watching them from afar.

You'd probably want to reach out and say hello, or at least ask them where you are, but they appear to be intensely focused on cleaning the gravestone, it'd be rude of you to interrupt them.

You space out for a moment before spacing back in. The person is now looking at you.

It would be rude to not interact with them, now that they're aware of your presence.

You start walking

towards this stranger.