He uncurled with the dawn, muscles slowly warming, awakening at the first touch of the sun. The soil beneath him, soft from its recent turning, hadn’t made a very comfortable bed.
Stretching, he cracked his back, sat up, pulled his blanket close around him.
Across the expanse of the cemetery, beneath the crests of milky white fog, squirrels tumbled together, played chase.
Sighing, he turned, leaned against the tombstone that had served as his companion throughout the night; his fingers traced the loops and whirls of her name the same way he used to trace her face.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
For Velvet Verbosity's 100 Word Challenge: Milky.