Rain misted down, the drops lingering on the tall, slender man that made his way between the rows of graves. He looked down every so often, a faint smile on his face, the expression seeming distant. He had the air of someone who knew where he was going, and true to that, stopped at the foot of a grave. The grave itself was placed beneath a weeping willow, slender branches falling to brush against his back as he knelt. A statue of a young angel, hands folded in prayer, rested atop the grave, a fitting monument.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens; Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens; Brown paper packages tied up with strings; These are a few of my favorite things.

The man pushed hair out of his face, tucking the unruly strands behind an ear with a sigh. He shivered slightly, the rain starting to soak through his coat, easily going through the thin clothing he wore underneath it. His cheeks were rosy from the chill, and his hands were starting to shake already. He reached out, touching his fingertips to the cheek of the statue, a mournful look in his eyes.

"Little bit…it's Christmas, I couldn't let you be all alone out here in the cold." His voice trembled slightly, a struggle to keep his emotions in check underway, "I had to come and visit."

He sighed, the sound shuddering past his lips. He pulled his hand back from the statue, curling his cold fingers against his palm.

"I brought you something this year, my sparrow." He reached into an inner pocket of his coat, pulling out a more-than-slightly wilted rose, "this…um…this is for you."

Cream-colored ponies and crisp apple strudels; Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles; Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings; These are a few of my favorite things.

The dark haired man lay the rose down on the grave, the petals of the rose pushing dew-covered blades of grass aside. The rain that poured down grew heavier; the man shuddered, and flicked his hair back out of his face.

"Jinx, sweetheart, I wish that you could've been there for Christmas. Everything was perfect, just…lacking you." He said, and the paused. A fist slammed into the ground, tightly curled. He spoke next with a strained voice, "It's my fault that this happened. I wish with all my heart that it was me in your place. Those as pure as you shouldn't die young."

Tears were beginning to role down the man's face, barely noticeable through the pouring rain. His shoulders heaved, as he broke down into wracking sobs.

"Please forgive me, little bit. P-please." He whispered, unable to raise his voice above that tone.

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes; Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes; Silver-white winters that melt into springs; These are a few of my favorite things.

"I know that you don't blame me for any of this. I just need to know that you forgive me for doing this to you." He continued; rain poured down in sheets now, the ground that he knelt upon becoming soft and muddy. He shook his head to clear the water from his face.

"I can't stay here any longer, Jinx. I'm sure that you wouldn't want me to catch my death of cold." A thin, humorless smile crept to his face, as he made a move to stand.

He turned to walk away, when he stopped suddenly, fishing once more through his coat. When he pulled his hand from inside it, he held something in its palm. He turned, leaning down for the last time, to set what he held lightly on the grave, at the base of the angel.

"It's a little broken…so it doesn't play very fast, my dear. But…remember that you are one of my favorite things." He murmured, turning and quickly walking back the way that he came, between the gravestones and out the wrought iron gates of the cemetery.

When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad.