***
Amon stood up silently from his kneeling position, straightening himself.
He adjusted his clothes as the cold wind caressed his bare cheeks in the form of a light breeze, something impossible before because of the mask.
The breeze was relieving and soothing in a sense, as if taking away half his burdens from his soul and pouring a blissful cold bucket of water on it to calm it down.
It was different from the other breezes as well.
It was as if it was intently relaxing and bringing a sense of rest to Amon's exhausted body.
To him, he understood the breeze.
In his mind, it was a form of the acceptance of the person resting in the ground of the words that he had just spoken.
As if the woman in front of him was caressing his cheeks in the form of a breeze.
A slight relaxed smile spread upon Amon's lips as he stared at the gravestone silently for a few seconds, intense sadness filled in his eyes.
