it's /your// funeral; blitz [charade]

The atmosphere in the cemetery today is grim, as the atmosphere in most cemeteries tend to be. However, when you live and work in one for as long as I have, you become sort of immune to the heavy air of sadness and despair that Death often brings to those whose friends and family members have felt its touch. This is the case as I watch a funeral being carried out further into the cemetery, a small cluster of people further down the row of worn tombstones, each adorned in the dark clothes of mourning and their heads bowed in grief as they say their final good-byes. I stand not thirty feet away, under the shade of an old oak tree as my breath puffs out in front of me and the cold bites at the tips of my fingers as I clutch the shovel in my hand. They’ll need me to bury their loved one once the funeral has ended, and I need to be nearby in order to do so.

A flash of blonde catches my eye amongst the graveyard’s dull grays and blacks, a girl standing not far off before one of the tombstones. Strange, I don’t think I’ve seen her here before… I’m usually pretty good with faces, and I don’t recognize her as one of the regulars who come often to visit lost family and former loves. Curious and a little suspicious, I abandon my post beside the tree and move closer, and as I do, I see her hand reach out and snatch something from beside the tombstone. My fingers automatically tighten around the shovel, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“S’cuse me, miss. But do you know who’s buried here?”