one
[ He walks through the graveyard with the quiet solemnity of a man who's walked through graveyards before, and probably will again. More times than he cares for. More coffins carried than he ever wanted to. There's no fresh dirt this time, but he still carries a bouquet of flowers. Crimson moss rose and ivy. It doesn't belong on any grave here though.
He steps forward with purpose, stopping in front of the girl. ]