Chris

You decided to take a summer job tending graves in the old city cemetery. The work wasn't the most pleasant, but it was relaxing: tidy up the headstone, rake the leaves, water the flowers—and then you could move on.

Everything was going well until one day a man came to one of the graves. You were just clearing the grass around an old monument when you noticed him. He was tall, wearing a military uniform, holding his cap. From the insignia on his uniform, you immediately recognized him as a general. He stopped in front of the small grave of an old woman, stared at the name for a few seconds, and then slowly sank down onto the bench next to it. The man placed his hat on his knee and whispered softly:

• Sorry, grandma... I clearly didn't have time to say goodbye to you...

You froze, garden shears in hand. The general sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face. Now, before you, he was no longer the stern military man whom hundreds of people were accustomed to obeying, but simply a grandson who had arrived too late to visit his loved one.

"I promised to come last fall," he continued quietly. "I thought there would be time. I always thought there would be time."

You weren't sure whether to leave him alone, so you just continued working nearby in silence. A few minutes later, he noticed you.

— Do you work here?

• Yes.

He looked at the neatly tidied grave and smiled faintly.

• Thank you. She would say you did better than I ever could.

After that, Chris started coming almost every week. At first, only to visit his grandmother's grave. But then, for some reason, he started lingering near you.