Grave Matter

by Karina Halle

“Lying to ourselves is more deeply ingrained than lying to others” DOSTOYEVSKY

Standing beneath the cedar, lit only by the burning ember of a cigarette, is a shadowy figure. I can feel their eyes on me, even though I can’t clearly see who it is. They watch me, unashamed, unabashed. Until they slowly turn and walk away. And only then do I recognize him. Kincaid.

“Because you are my future, Syd,” he says, his voice low and gruff. “Because that’s all there is. The past doesn’t exist anymore. Only now and tomorrow is what does. And I want you—now and tomorrow.”