It was a windy afternoon. In a cemetery, Hope was sitting in front of a grave.
A bouquet of flowers was in his hands, and his head remained lowered.
He revealed his right hand to give air to the grip on his late guardian's glasses, ignoring the shadow behind him.
"Are you really going to do this every day?" Cid asked his hands in his pocket.
The wind blew harder, but no response came from his interlocutor.
Cid took a deep breath and walked towards Hope, stopping right behind him.
"I won't give you any advice or criticism, but think about it. It was his choice, his decision, everything he did was on his own terms. I know you two were very close, so I'm sure that you understand his choice better than anyone else.
He waited a few seconds, but seeing no reaction from Hope, he resorted to more powerful means.
"You are a very strange guy, you come here every day, but you have never been to Elizabeth's gra..."
