Gather at the Grave

You sidle up next to the grave and look in.  A despondent-looking teenager lays in the bottom of it.  He's wearing a black hoodie with a red heart on it.

"Oh, hey," he says.  "I'm just hanging out.  You know.  In a grave.  Helps me think."

Grumbling, the teenagers wander off.  The one in the grave turns away from you and sulks.

Looks like the graveyard's not the place to be.  Time to head back out to the street.