I sat beside her grave. A frosty wind was howling, and with it came the stinging sensation of snowflakes running into my face. Frozen tears ran down my cheeks indiscriminately, and they never made it past my chin. The blanket of snow covering the ground acted as my only company on this lengthy, sorrowful winter night. I sat there beside Emily’s grave, sobbing, as I had for the past hour. Between these bouts of wailing, came severe episodes of anger. I knew who was responsible for the creation of the rumor that drove Emily to kill herself. Her name was Jennifer Clay, Jennifer fucking Clay!