There's a little girl with almost white hair, in a dress, sitting in the grass. She's just silently staring at a stone pillar around twice her height- a memorial hand crafted for her adopted mother. The sun is setting behind the memorial, and the wind is blowing her hair into her face and the quiet sound of the autumn leaves rustling in the gentle breeze echoes through the quiet graveyard. Her body is slightly transparent, as if she's some sort of ghost, and her eyes hold a somber gaze that's already cried all the tears it had left. She stays there for a long time, and before she knows it, the sun has made way for the moon, and her time for mourning has ended.
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