Part One of Three
It was her first time since that day.
Ninety-four steps separated the narrow road from the train tracks above. She paused at the first and looked upward. The stone stairway navigated a direct route up the steep, tree-covered hillside.
She placed a tentative foot on the first step. It wouldn’t be hard to turn around, to avoid this place one more time. But she knew she would regret that decision. With a clenched jaw she forced her legs to ascend the steps. She refused to look anywhere but down, counting each step with a brisk rhythm.
The rush of wind and raw sound from a passing train startled her from her trance. She looked up and tripped on the last step, catching herself in a clumsy but effective manner. The train passed, continued its gradual curve around the slope, and disappeared from sight.
She stood alone, a single figure in a small clearing at the top of the steps. The day was sunless, muted and shadowed in a dreary overcast tone. With one gloved hand she drew her white overcoat closer around her. With the other she clutched a single white lily to her chest. Her breath escaped to the winter air in a faint mist.
Immediately before her stood an unimposing block of polished marble, a cube inclined toward the viewer. Assorted flower bouquets crowded the base of the monument-some elaborate, some simple. Some with photographs, some with names. She stepped forward, removed one glove, and pressed her hand to the cold stone. The surface facing the sky bore a date of one year prior. Below the date were engraved 47 names. With a finger she traced the fifteenth name.