Granite Vigorously wiping dead grass and dandelion petals from the rock, the girl's hand roughly brushed a jagged edge. As she quickly removed her hand to examine it, she saw what her hand was resting on. The upper right corner of the baby's headstone was broken. She took a moment to watch his blood spill into the crevices and ravines of the breach at the rim. She scanned the mound ahead and around and spotted the piece. She reached over and picked it up, her knuckles growing whiter by the second as she gripped the cut edge tighter and tighter. Then she spotted the culprit. A rusty old lawnmower and an overweight, tactless Nimrod with gray hair crowning him. With a dose of adrenaline, she launched the stone edge after the tractor. Did this man have no respect for the souls he had so violently torn away? The stone fell ten feet high and the man was not aware of it. The young girl, innocent and full of rage, fell to her knees in front of the tombstone of her deceased brother. The only way for her to see him. However, only one tear fell all night. She wasn't so angry as she was amazed at the idea that, even though he was her older brother, he would still be preserved in time, like the granite above him, as the baby of four days. She thought about it as she shifted her vision to the huge slab of white stone near the left road. She was the children's saint, with most of the children buried around her. When her family came to the grave when she was in elementary school, she loved to climb on the smooth stone and hear the sparrows in their little trees dotting the plateau of the dead. She shook the thought away with a cold shiver as the first droplets of a new rain fell on her swimsuit. Her eyes showed she wasn't paying attention as she knelt down, slowly tracing the word "Joey" with her left little finger. She had always regretted the fact that she never felt any real depression following his death, but how could she? She didn't even have a twinkle in her parents' eyes when it happened.