“Together, Cole and I got the shovel from the garage and took turns digging through the partially frozen ground. I didn’t know what to say to him. My mouth felt stuffed full of words that I should’ve said to Tom Culpeper, and when I tried to find some left over for Cole, I came up short. I wanted Grace to wait inside, but she insisted on coming along. She watched us from among the trees, arms folded tightly across her chest, eyes red. I had chosen this site, sloped and sparse, because of... its beauty in summer; when it rained, the leaves flipped up to reveal glowing white undersides that rippled in the wind. However, I had never been human here to appreciate its equally beautiful presence this time of year. While we dug, the evening transformed the woods, making ribbons of warm sunlight across the forest floor and painting stripes of blue shadows over our bodies. Everything was splashes of yellow and indigo, an impressionist painting of three teens at an evening funeral.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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