Horatio ran his fingers across the engraved letters in the granite, tears welling up in his eyes. Some days, he let the tears fall; sometimes they didn't come.
He'd already replaced the flowers for the week (he did every Sunday) and he stroked the petals of the lilies. Seven lilies, one for each day of the week. One for each month that they had been together. Seven months together in bliss, before it was ripped apart.
Horatio let the tears fall, and as he stood, he pressed a kiss to the top of the tombstone. "Goodnight, Speed."

Read the Sequel: Static

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