![]() I walked toward the house, but the reflected light made it impossible to see in.Ī vague uneasiness seeped into me. After a moment I realized the person had been watching from my bedroom. The lowering sun flared off the paned glass, but I saw it, the movement of someone stepping back from the window, as if trying not to be seen. As I did, I gave a quick glance back at the house. I didn’t want to touch her stone, and turned, suddenly compelled to get out of there. Did she have any idea she’d die that young? I looked at the dates, drew back, then did the math again. There were new markers made of shiny rock, and I strolled over to look at them. Some of its gravestones looked extremely old, round-shouldered and leaning forward as if they were tired, their names and dates no longer readable. When I got to the gate, I realized it was a cemetery, a family burial plot. ![]() I HADN’T NOTICED THE PLOT COMING IN, FOR IT WAS ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE CIRCULAR DRIVE. ![]()
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