She rests a hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘My dad was all right. He had his problems but he still loved me. He did.’ And Molly wants to cry in front of these crocodiles. And maybe this is what people mean when they talk about crocodile tears: what you shed when you talk to crocodiles about your dead dad. Cry, Molly, cry. They’ll let you pass if you cry for them. Cry, Molly, cry. But she can’t. And she tilts her head up to find the sky but there’s no sky to be seen this far up Candlelight Creek.
Personification for grief
