The funeral is a quiet one, despite the number of mourners present. There are no sobs or flailing handkerchiefs. There is a smattering of color amongst the sea of traditional black. Even the light rain cannot push it down into the realms of despair. It rests instead in a space of thoughtful melancholy.

And then he tells her stories. Myths he learned from his instructor. Fantasies he created himself, inspired by bits and pieces of others read in archaic books with crackling spines.

I have tried to let you go and I cannot. I cannot stop thinking of you. I cannot stop dreaming about you.

The circus arrives without warning.

And there are really never endings, happy or otherwise.

Life takes us to unexpected places sometimes. The future is never set in stone, remember that.

I mean only that I hope they find darkness or paradise without fear of it, if they can.