Feeling

[lostfiles]

FEELING | In the early morning sun, before the world en mass awakes, she lays her three white roses on the earth in front of the stone, steps back, and closes her eyes. Behind shuttered lids she sees dead men playing tag in their cemetery. They never know who is caught because they can’t feel the touch. She opens her eyes, picks up a pebble and places it on the plainly carved grave. For a moment she imagines the pebble falling clean through stone, down and down, through earth, through coffin, through skeletal corpse, wood again and earth. Stopping for nothing, feeling… nothing.