She was beautiful, you can see in the wedding snapshot she carries everywhere, but the time drew webs in her skin as deceptions inked bitterness in her sick heart. There is no weakness, though, in the way she pushes her wheelchair up the hill. To his grave.
“He was passion and madness”, she recounts nostalgically. “Found the guilty one, smashed his head against these rocks, then threw himself into the ocean.”
Tears, crystalline as her sky eyes, drop gently as she adds, “Beat me to steal our money. Coma for weeks. I lost our baby…No miracle of us behind.”