It’s a sunny day, which feels odd for a graveyard. One particular grave seems almost radiant in the afternoon light; after years of neglect and the only occasional visitor, who rarely brought flowers, the grave is now covered in flowers and well wishes, many from people who never met the person memorialised here.

A three eyed man approaches. He looks tired, but compared to previous visits there is a certain peace about him, a determination. As he arrives at the grave, he sees the messages that have been left, some simply clips from a newspaper and others long confiding notes.

“Huh. Looks like you’re getting pretty popular old friend.” The words are muttered under an exhale, almost a release, “Hello Bobby.”

He looks like he’s about to say more, but he’s interrupted by a sound of someone approaching from behind him. He whips around quickly, arms raised defensively. He freezes, however, when he meets the eyes of the dark-haired person standing behind him, smiling sadly.

The two regard each other for a moment. They’ve both changed – it’s been over thirty years, after all – but also, they haven’t changed at all.

“I – I can come back.” The interloper manages eventually. They start to turn away but they are interrupted by the voice of the three-eyed man.

“Wait!” he cries, and then pauses, unsure of where he was going, “Stay. It would stupid to – well. Just. Stay.”

The two stand together and pay their respects. There is some conversation as the two leave together and though it is awkward, it is not tense. They part ways at the gate, both knowing that sometimes things are broken, sometimes beyond repair, but that doesn’t mean they are destroyed.

Bobby’s grave is beautiful in the sunlight.