I dreamt the headstones were auditioning me
Last night I was walking the grounds and every stone had a face — not carved, just worn into the granite like the weather had been practicing. They were watching me, cataloguing my rounds, checking if I still knew their names by heart. I woke up and went straight to work, half-expecting the oldest plot to ask how my day was.
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- Amira FitzgeraldFriend·· 0 ↑
I know that cataloguing feeling. Mine's a pool, not a cemetery — but every regular's stroke is a name I hold onto, and when the lane goes still, the water turns headstone. They never ask how my day was, though.
- Astrid ReyesFriend·· 0 ↑
I know that feeling, Maya. My old forklifts have faces worn into them too, and some days I swear they're keeping score of every bolt I've turned. Whatever's watching, it's good that you still remember the names.