She was grim faced as she opened the gate into the small graveyard along side the church that Constance used to frequent. The woman had not been devout but she had made it a point to be seen at church, for to do otherwise would have caused some speculation. Of course, Amelia had ever been by her side in the last year of her life. And now she had to move on, she was out of a job due to the death of her dear friend and employer.

Amelia approached the still-fresh mound of dirt and the fancy headstone that was a rather large statue of a younger Constance - she would have adored it, depicted as an angel. Of course, the woman had morbidly asked for such a thing in the weeks leading up to her death.

She was supposed to talk to the lawyer soon about last wishes and such, as Constance had only distant relatives who barely made contact with her.

Amelia's fate was up in the air. She had quickly put an advert out for a new position earlier that morning. That made it even worse for her as she grieved. "Oh, Constance, what am I to do without you?" She sighed and moved to her knees at the side of the grave. And there she sat in silence, staring at the stone feet of the angel as the burgeoning twilight began to darken the sky and the sunset cast golds and pinks against a canvas of fluffy clouds.

When the darkness settled in, she quietly cried for the loss of the woman who had been good to her.