As Luke was about to leave the cemetery, something caught his eye. Amidst the rows of carefully tended graves, one stood out like a blemish. Unlike the others, this grave was neglected, overgrown with vines and weeds, its stone weathered and cracked from years of disregard. It stood alone, forgotten by time, as though no one had cared for it in ages.
Something about the sight drew Luke in, a strange pull that brought him closer to the unkempt grave. Before he even realised it, he was standing directly beside it, his hand resting on the cold, rough surface of the tombstone. The stone felt lonely beneath his fingers, its isolation palpable.
"Why?" Luke wondered aloud, his voice soft in the quiet of the cemetery. "Why is this one left like this?"
