Grief filled her bones like buckshot, painfully weighing her body to the bed. It caught in her throat every time she spoke, and on top of that, a gritty glue of anguish permeated her membranes—the lining of her sinuses, the tender bed of her fingernails. Every whiff of gardenia in the sun, every piss taken hurt—tugging with it a new layer of agony from some other crevasse it had folded itself into.
