Cordelia

A steady, drizzling rain falls. It is another day of visiting graves. Around the three tombstones, she stands alone, holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums, wearing a black dress and holding a black umbrella. "Oh God, please forgive me." She casually places a few chrysanthemums in front of the tombstones, then scatters the remaining flowers onto the surrounding soil, commemorating those souls who were washed in blood.

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