i’m sorry.
@defenderofhellskitchen
This place had been important to Matt when he was alive. Clinton Church had been his home for a few years, and religion had always been a staple in his life. (Natasha had never felt the draw to religion. Most scripture she had been familiarized with was the kind that marked her for an afterlife of damnation.) But this place mattered to him, and he was dead. And what did you do to honor the dead that you didn’t know were dead until the memorials were already finished? When no one knew to give you a call?
Natasha hadn’t been much for ceremony either, but Matt had.
Natasha lit the match with one of the other candles and then lit two candles. One for Matt and one for Alexei. (She couldn’t remember if she and her buried husband celebrated any religion when they were together, but it couldn’t hurt, could it? They both deserved peace. Wherever they were.)
Footsteps that she recognized approached, paired with a voice she knew well. “Is it bad luck to light candles for the living, Matt?” She looked towards him, surprise that she knew he couldn’t see on her face and in her eyes because she knew Matt was capable of a lot of things — but faking his own death? It had never occurred to her to doubt that he was dead. “I don’t know what question to start with — how did you know I was here? Where have you been staying?”
