Tumbled OutGeorge gave us a tour of the property. It must once have been a cemetery because the dirt appeared littered with broken grave stones. I noticed a, “d 19” on one chunk of stone and presumed it meant a person had died in my century. The ground was lumpy but the central path smooth and that was where George slithered. I walked on the smooth part too because the rough ground made my uneven legs ache.
Horace wandered alongside looking for intact stones but found none.
“All the bodies are gone,” George said. “Taken I suspect to create patchwork people like you. Art people I mean, but none of them can animate like you did.”
“The two skeletons and that’s it,” I said and realized the smell of dirt felt normal and reminded me of the dirt I once smelled in Kansas.
“Yes,” George said.
