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Amelia fell to her knees in that grave. The color of the night covered her body in a loose dress. Sadness took over her face, her gestures, her every limb, even her breathing. She had never seen herself experiencing such deep pain as that; thrown on that dark earth, feeling her knees being hurt and hearing her own cry, so loud that it seemed alien to her, as she felt Maximiliano's hand, seeking to comfort her.
Amelia brought her trembling fingers to the grave, breaking down once again. She had never engaged in self-injurious behavior until this had happened. She couldn't see any color in life when her rainbow had died. To think that with a little more care, he could have saved her earlier, it killed her. It had killed her more than a hundred times that week.
The woman laid her mother's favorite flowers on the grave, swallowing saliva, trying to regulate the flow of her tears, but they possessed a life of their own.