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A winter's reflection

In the quiet of a winter night, a woman in her 40s stood in the middle of a cemetery, her mature features etched with sadness. She wore a beige-brown fur coat, open at the front, revealing a half-cup semitransparent bra. Her brown, short, straight hair cascaded down in waves, catching the moonlight. Around her neck hung a long, golden necklace, while her legs were encased in light brown, lace-trimmed stockings, finishing with brown high heels. The air was cold, the ground blanketed in snow, and she seemed lost in the silence, her presence almost ghostly as she surveyed the tombstones.