CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Peter stands at the drinks table, staring at the foam spilling out over the sides of his quart glass. He should’ve stayed. He should’ve voiced his feelings. He should’ve continued to knocked the shite out of Aengus while he had the chance. Sarah would’ve forgiven him. Yea, she would’ve… after a few years or so. How could she not? She has no one else to take care of her. He grins to himself, bringing the pint to his lips, and sips.
Sarah sits in the jar. She stares at her hands, normal to her, but so miniscule next to Lilith’s fingers on the glass. She looks up at the cork stopper, tears flowing between her skin and mask. Peering through the bottom of the jar, she watches as Aengus’ chunks become smaller and smaller in the grass as they get farther and farther away. How
