She went to the grave on a Saturday.
Not the anniversary — just a Saturday. The kind of visit that wasn't marked on any calendar, driven by nothing except the feeling that she had things to say that couldn't wait for a designated date.
She brought two cups of coffee. Same as always.
The cemetery was quiet in the particular way cemeteries were quiet on winter mornings — not empty, just unhurried. A few other visitors moving between headstones with their own private purposes. The cold air clean and still.
She sat beside her father's grave and set one cup down carefully.
"A lot has happened," she said.
She told him everything she hadn't said at the last visit — the sentencing, Richard Cole's apology, the advisory board meeting, Margaret Osei and Gerald's Special, Arthur Chen's question
