She asked me who was left since her sight has failed her so many times. I told her our cousin, Anna, was still here eating ice cream inside. She gracefully sat down in the stamped green grass and just inches below her dangling lifeless hands was my hand. She must appear sad to those passing by. She was unaware of someone staring, but as soon as the sensation came, it quickly passed and before long she knew she wasn’t alone. I looked into her big brown eyes surrounded by her porcelain skin and ask myself why could such a beautiful face be taken by so much sadness. She curled her small body on the ground like a baby cramped in its womb and whispered to herself. I could barely make out what she was saying; it sounded like she was asking God, why her?

Was that a tear? Night was but a few precious hours away, and birds in the trees, but birds told only half the story, to outsiders, and the rest to the deep archives of her mind, where tragedy and

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