TWENTY-FOUR
A SHARP WIND LIFTED AND dropped the edge of her skirt. Her neck was stiff and she couldn’t be sure how much time had passed. A grey sky hid the sun. Bile rose to the back of her throat and she started to heave, but her stomach was empty. Her head throbbed. Her knees were crusted with blood that had already begun to darken. She sensed he was there but didn’t look, couldn’t.
Her legs buckled when she tried to stand and she was back on the ground again, beside him. He hadn’t moved. How could this be? She wanted to shake him, bring him back from his shameless reverie. His eyes were open but unseeing. The wind ruffled his hair. The blood on his white shirt was a motionless red tide.
She pushed herself to her knees and moved mechanically, drawing his eyelids down, buttoning his ja
