Quiet #6

The train arrives and we get on quickly. All of us in our best dresses, tight bows in our curly hair. We try to ignore the shoving and jostling, as we talk to each other in half-murmured whispers. An aura of solemnity cloaking us, distinctly setting us apart from the jolly crowd.

Debby, my little sister stood silently hugging the train’s railing. When we arrived, she cried. A deep sense of rawness pouring out as her salty tears crumbled all her walls. Our mother stood clasping my arm as deep sobs wrack her body. Everyone attempted to hide their grief.

Street cats chase us out. Mom feeds them bread, scratching their furry heads and tummies playfully. Dad used to do that.

I think they know.

They snarl and hiss at me, baring their white teeth, hair on edge. Mom’s furious face is pointed at me.

I think she knows too.

Hidden in soft mist

Oak coffin buried

Church bells echoing

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