They say the tree is marked with names of those who died for love. I don't believe it, but I make the journey anyway. I find a tree black as ebony and pale pink leaves gathering at my feet. All around is a mist that makes my world look blue. Except for the tree and its pink leaves. I approach the tree and my heart stops beating when I see a single name carved: Josiah Griffin. Josiah was my beau. He loved me. He took a bullet for me.