The place where her body entered the ground is a little greener than the rest. Foxglove grows graciously out of it. There’s no getting used to that passage under-the-hill. Naomi would call herself a steady person, comfortable with a measured amount of danger. Still, when she walks into the green earth, she shuts her eyes, holds her breath, her pulse races in her wrists. The only truly bad moment is when the dirt is all around her, damp and hot and always heavier than she’s prepared for. She comes out on the other side choking and has to balance herself with her palm shoved against the soft
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