Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Those Who Mourn ❯ One-Shot

A stitch, another stitch, and all she sees is his face.

Meryl drops the needle and coarse yarn that was all she could find. She flexes her fingers, tries not to hear the drip, drip, drip of the single red thread that hangs from the edge of this makeshift altar of repose. The stale lilac bath oil she added to the water makes things easier.

Why must I do everything? she asks. Please just let me grieve…

Before she takes up the needle again Meryl strokes the tear-moist hair on his pale forehead. Milly has such good taste in men.