Flora got back to her truck and leaned against it. She wanted to say something. She searched herself for a benediction. A vow that she could make this right. A way to tell the dead that she was going on and so they weren’t the end of the line. But no words came. The sadness of it fought with the fright in her until she slipped back into her seat and shut the door. She sped off as quick as the ruin of the road could accommodate her wooden wheels. She did not look back.
