The stone is still slick from the previous night's rainfall, the ground squishy and probably leaving stains on her slacks, but she kneels before the headstone anyway. She hasn't been here for so long, too long - she owes her mother this much, and maybe she owes her the imminent tears as well.
Regardless of the fact that it's been over a decade since she's come, the welling of her grief is all too familiar.
But today, for the first time, when she bows her head and starts to cry, Arastoo stands beside her, a comforting hand at her shoulder, and it makes all the difference.
It feels like love...like closure.
She reaches up to grab his hand, and instead of simply letting her, he kneels next to her and wraps an arm around her, and it feels like hope.