The rain fell hard, spitting
on the hallowed granite wall.
It fell on her too, sitting
in her fatal fetal sprawl.

Her coat was torn, and her head hung low;
the rain stung her knees and eyes.
“What a surprise…” she whispered, slow
in her speech and ashen in her guise.

“I didn’t think I’d find your name…”
Her voice broke, though none can know
whether from pride or from shame.
“I guess you listened, when they told you to go.”

“You idiot! When you’re done, find
me. That’s what I said to-”
Another break; her throat constricted.
She barely breathed, “Why me? Why you?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“They sent you, but it’s all my fault.”
The rain reaches her lips, then,
yet those drops taste of salt.