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The Artifact
Zeke Julia. I overheard her introducing herself to the foreman yesterday, which is how I learned her name. My mind conjures the memory of her staring up at me, lips slightly parted and eyes widened in surprise. I do feel bad for having startled her earlier. She’d seemed so shaken up. It makes me wonder if something else has happened to her today, something unexplainable. From where I stand amidst the crumbling tombstones jutting out of the cemetery, I peer through the twisted trunks of the cypress trees toward the house. The white façade shines like ivory beneath the unrelenting summer sun. Neat rows of windows gleam, and my eyes roam upward as I catch a flash of movement in one of them. Julia, wrapped in nothing but a towel, walks past. Her long auburn hair is twisted up in a bun, bu
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