In a sense, nothing really was wrong. That was what we decided, though we never said it aloud. There was much left unsaid.
I collected things from the ground in jars. Stones and twigs, the occasional bit of dull, weathered glass or tiny bird bones. I treasured the bones the most. They had their own special jar. I kept the jars lined up along the windowsill in the kitchen. When I wasn’t digging I would rearrange the jars in order of colour or alphabetically by content. Edward was calm and quiet these days, observing my strange habits in silence. Whatever my reasons, he understood the necessity of it and did not discourage me.
I didn’t understand why I had to do these things. It seemed to be the desire of the little creature I carried, and whatever she wanted I would obediently provide. It
