Even the angels look like they're eavesdropping.

I paused by a grave that seemed to carry more than just loss—it carried love frozen in time. The statues of angels stood solemnly, their wings slightly weathered but still graceful against the sunlit grass. A figurine of two children sitting on a bench seemed oddly cheerful for such a setting; their ceramic smiles spoke of innocence untouched by grief. Nearby, a bed of bright flowers burst with color as if defying the stillness around them. The air was quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves from distant trees. I found myself wondering about the lives behind these stones and how each one once held a story as vivid as the day around me.