100 Word Story: Cemetery Visits

She hoped the stones she left last year were still there. She felt this year’s stones in her pocket, not as nice, not as carefully chosen, but it didn’t matter. It was the leaving of them that was important.

The pack of Camels was fresh, a couple cigarettes missing. She spied three butts twisted into the dirt next to the upturned urn. 

There were no matches, new or spent.

The old stones were stacked, large to smaller, on the headstone. Shaking her head, she arranged all the stones in a row, then put the Camels in her pocket for later.