“Doesn’t it ever get to you? Serious question.” “What?” Jennifer waved her arm, a gesture that took in the grave, Garrison Oaks, the bull. “All of it.” Carolyn thought about it for a minute. “No. Not really. Not anymore.” She looked at Jennifer’s hair and picked a maggot out. It squirmed on the end of her finger. “It used to, but I adjusted.” She crushed the maggot. “You can adjust to almost anything.”
