Matches
Nov 4 · 4 min read
The garden had burned entirely to ash. York knelt in the powdery graveyard edged by a blackened fence, ash sticking into the denim of her jeans. She pressed her hand into the coarse layer like she and her sister Lilith had done years ago on the sidewalk when it was still unset cement. This handprint would last a day, if that. York’s body curled in on itself as she fought away the sobs bubbling in her lungs.


