IF ANYONE WERE WATCHING, THEY would have seen her lick a tree.
Sienna’s pink tongue, almost iridescent, would have been the only glimpse of color in the storm. It would have looked like an extra-terrestrial reaching out to meet a droplet of rain, heavy at the end of a Hemlock branch. She would make a good alien, she thought. Such a subpar Earthling.
Of course, no one was watching; the families — hers and Kenneth’s — were all at the grave, tossing fistfuls of dirt and half-truths.
Someone said, he’s in a better place now.
Someone said, dust to dust.
