In response to Mondays Finish the Story Challenge.
The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode. Sam didn’t know how it had gotten that name. Probably some teenagers or kids from a few generations back. She always made sure her sunset jog made a loop around its perimeter. To her, it was the most peaceful spot in town.
That evening as Sam ran past the wrought iron entryway, she spotted a woman kneeling in front of her father’s tombstone, placing a bouquet of delicate white roses. Curious, she approached her, dried leaves and dead flower petals crunching under her sneakers.
“Did you know him?” Sam asked.
She turned to her, wiping her wet cheek. She spoke in an exotic accent. “He was my father. I never met him.”
Sam stumbled backwards, gripping the stone to steady herself. The woman looked at her strangely.
Composure regained, Sam extended her hand and declared, “I’m Sam. We have a lot to talk about.”