The shock of seeing that body in the grave sends me reeling back toward the crumbling wall of the pit I dug. Only there’s nowhere to go, the space too cramped to allow for anything but this: Me, half tumbling into the open casket, staring down at Alex’s beautiful red hair tangled against the satin pillow, her pale cheeks and limp hands, the scarlet bloom of blood staining her white shirt. No. No, no— That isn’t Alex’s mouth, nor Alex’s nose. Her cheeks have too many freckles, her body isn’t decayed. Not Alex’s body. Clara’s.
