That was his gravestone.
Every morning, she would come and stand before it, talking to him.
Every evening, she would come again. She would sit down, caress his photograph on the stone, and talk to him.
That night, the wind rose...
Beneath the moonlight, she appeared in a sleeveless black dress. She walked up to his gravestone, leaned against it, and let her tears fall one by one onto the stone.
Just then, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black suit came up behind her. He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, then held her and stroked her shoulder. "He's back. You should be happy."
Before that, she had loved saying to his gravestone, "We said we'd go to heaven together. You've forgotten, haven't you?"
Good-looking, suitable for calming down and reading slowly