The cemetery was exactly as bleak as I remembered.
The morning was cold, gray clouds threatening rain. Appropriate weather for saying goodbye to a man who'd died in shame.
I'd come alone this time. Damien had offered to accompany me by all means, but I'd insisted on doing this by myself. Some conversations needed to be private.
Even if the other person was dead.
"Hi, Papa," I said quietly.
The wind picked up, scattering dead leaves across the graves. No response. Just silence and cold.
I crouched down, touching the disturbed earth. Fresh and recent. A reminder of how quickly everything had fallen apart.
"I'm leaving," I told him. "Going to Prague. To find Mama."
Saying it out made it real in a way it hadn't been before. I was really doing this. Really about to flee the country, abandon my life, chase a ghost across Europe.
