Carmel set Nell down among the floral madness and took a roll of photographs because she thought she should. It was a solid five months before she could get to the chemist to get the prints developed, and another unknowable length of time before she escaped to pick them up again. Carmel flipped the photos quickly from the front of the stack. Nell, lying asleep among the wilting flowers, looked like a bundled little corpse in a funeral home, somewhere hot and tragic.
