Goodbyes Are the Hardest When They Come Calling
The truth comes in bursts.
At the funeral for her uncle Patrick, Moriah stood with her cousins. Each one fidgeted as if they had something to hide — and she could sense the unease in the room. A pall hung in the air as if something had left incense to burn in their midst, likely from the white lilies her cousin Emily had chosen for the splatter of a bouquet in front of the urn.
Moriah stood, numb.
Her eyes trailed over to her four cousins. Their spouses stood to the sides, mere players in what had become a game of chance.
She sighed and moved the ring on her right hand, on her ring finger — not a wedding ring, but an heirloom from her departed aunt who had died years prior.
She closed her eyes, a pounding headache beginning.
This scene — she had foreseen it as if in a dream.
It was as if she had lived it before.
But she had no choice but to keep living through it, step by step.
She felt unmoored, the only one who stood in this room without a partner to fall back on — but that did not matter at this point.
At the end of the day, it would all come down to money.
