Maysilee pulls off one of her necklaces, a heavy strand of beads woven into purple and yellow flowers. “I was going to give her this. For her token. So she’d have something from home.” She kneels down, and I lift Louella’s crushed skull while she places the beads around her neck. Fresh blood seeps into my hand. “Thanks,” I say. “She likes flowers.” I can’t speak of her in the past, not while she’s warm and close.
