The shadows hung long behind the headstones as the dust whipped
through the air and stung her wet face.
She pulled the plaid blanket closer and brushed the hair away from her
face. Laying her moist cheek against the
marble she began to run her finger over the letters: A-P-R-I-L. Her darling daughter now lay cold in the
ground. Alone.
She was named after the very month that took her life. They all slept peacefully until their night
was interrupted by the flying debris of nature’s fury. They had no warning, no time to prepare for
their entire world to be torn apart in shadows and dust.
