Mirna came to the cemetery with an empty water bottle and scissors that were never sharp enough. Faruk brought a small brush and always forgot a bag for dried leaves. Their parents rested in neighboring rows. In the first year, they exchanged only greetings. In the second, they began lending things. In the third, Mirna noticed she dressed more carefully on Sundays than the work among stone slabs required.
Faruk wasn't a cemetery employee, as she initially assumed, but a delivery-van driver. Mirna edited books for a small publisher. Both lived alone and had other people in their lives, but nobody knew their calmest weekly conversations happened beside the tap. They discussed weather, neighbors, and parental habits continuing through their hands although they never intended to inherit them.
One Sunday, Faruk mentioned a new café near the gate. Mirna immediately understood the invitation and wished he hadn't offered it there. She said she didn't want to turn visiting her parents into a date. Faruk apologized, visibly embarrassed. They left separately, feeling they had spoiled something requiring no name. The next week, Mirna came earlier, then grew angry at avoiding a man she had no reason to blame.
She waited by the tap and said her discomfort concerned the place, not him. She feared joy would diminish her reason for visiting. Faruk replied that he didn't think her mother occupied the same part of life another person might occupy. He didn't attempt to speak for the dead. He simply described how he felt when he went among living people after visiting rather than straight to an empty apartment.
They arranged Wednesday coffee far from the cemetery. Mirna first saw Faruk without his work jacket and learned he disliked the cakes he kept recommending. He recommended them because he didn't know what else to offer. She laughed and admitted carrying scissors from habit although most flowers she bought needed no cutting. Their conversation became less solemn once they could be ordinary and a little ridiculous.
They continued visiting separately on Sundays. Sometimes they met, sometimes not. Their relationship grew around dinners, walks, and different opinions about films rather than shared sorrow. Once, Faruk offered to collect her afterwards. Mirna accepted. She emerged through the gate with an empty bottle and saw him leaning against his car. She kissed him without looking back toward the rows, leaving memories peacefully where they belonged and carrying the rest of the day forward.