ClaraCumberbatch
Today's the day. The twelfth.
I walked up the steps to the graveyard, like I did every year on this day. Slowly, heavily.
The pine tree was all I could see from my bedroom window. That and the stars. I used to sit up in bed and dream about anything and everything. Because it all seemed so possible, when nothing but stars and the silhouette of a tall tree, that stood in the distance was there to cloud my vision.