The Maidens

by Alex Michaelides

If only she could box up her love, as she was attempting to do with his possessions.

“Security,” she said. “He believed all the money would protect him, somehow. I think—he was afraid.” “Afraid … of what?” For this, Mariana had no answer. She shook her head, at a loss. “I’m not sure he knew himself.”

’Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all

After we die, Mariana thought, all that remains of us is a mystery; and our possessions, of course, to be picked over by strangers.

“It’s the seed—the seed inside the cone. The seed inside us—the spirit within the body. It’s about opening your mind to that. A commitment to looking inside and finding your soul.”