Huh.
The man picked up one of the sponges to gently wipe at the tombstone. He cleared away the biggest chunks of green fuzz, and then he used a tiny brush to tidy up the letters. He seemed calm, relaxed, and there was an odd sense of serenity exuding from his very pores.
Seymour could only compare the feeling to looking at the stars.
But still, he did wonder…
Where did all that water come from?
The man turned his head, meeting Seymour’s probing gaze with one of his own.
He was beautiful.
Golden curls, tan skin, bright blue eyes, chiseled features, and a strong jaw. He looked like he should have been on the cover of a magazine wearing fancy couture clothing, not on his knees scrubbing a dirty headstone.
“Sorry. I just, uh…” Seymour forced a smile, laughing nervously. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
The man tilted his head, but he did not speak.
“Do you, uh, work for the cemetery?” Seymour shoved his hands in his pockets. “Or do you just like runnin’ ’round scrubbin’ on headstones for fun?”
The man smiled shyly. He looked over his handiwork, regarding it for a long moment, before he finally replied, “Fun.”
His voice was a deep, rumbling low, as if it could command the very stone before him.
Seymour would have believed it.
“So, uh.” Seymour cleared his throat. “You got anybody here?”
The man frowned.
“Any…” Seymour scrambled for the right word. “Relatives?”
The man nodded in understanding, but then he said, “No.”
“It’s real nice of you. To do that for people.” Seymour gestured vaguely. “Especially if you don’t know any of ’em.”
The man continued to stare.
It was a bit unnerving.
“Right. So.” Seymour coughed, looking back at the grave of his father. There wasn’t much to see, but he needed a break from the man’s intense gaze.
“You have… someone here?” the man asked. “Someone you lost?”
“Yeah.” Seymour nodded and gestured to the grave marker in front of him. “My father.”
“I am sorry.” The man frowned.
“No, it’s all right.” Seymour shook his head, shrugging. “I never really knew him. It’s a long story, but, uh—” He cut himself off. It didn’t seem right to dump on a complete stranger. “Just in town to finish up some stuff with his will, maybe grab him some flowers, and then back on home I go.”
“You are not from here?”
“No. Mississippi.” Seymour cringed. “Well, okay, I was born here in Somerstown, technically, but we moved when I was real little. So, yes, kinda from here. But not.”
“Ah.”
“You?”
