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“So, um...this is awkward, but...that's my grandma you're sitting on.”
I stared at the young man, curious what he could mean. A half smile inched across his face, and he motioned to the headstone I was leaning against. I gasped and immediately stood up.
“I am so sorry,” I said. “I didn't realize—I mean, I should have realized—I just—I'm sorry.” The man chuckled. “Told you it was awkward,” he said, his dark brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he continued to smile. “I'm Joe.” “Ella,” I said, tucking my notebook under my arm and shaking his hand. “So, Ella...do you often come here and sit on others' graves?” He pushed his dark hair out of his eyes as he waited for my response. I sighed. “You are not making this any less uncomfortable.” “I'm honestly curious.” “Okay,” I hesitated and glanced at the cemetery. “Then yes, I do. I guess I didn’t really think of it like that until today.”
“Ah, yes,” Joe smirked. “Until today you were able to think of headstones as the backs of very uncomfortable benches.”
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