The dirt was still loose.
Carl stood there with the shovel in his hand, his chest rising and falling a little heavier than it should have. Sweat ran down the side of his face, cutting through the dust stuck to his skin. He wiped it with the back of his wrist, leaving a smear across his forehead.
The mound of earth in front of him was uneven. Fresh.
Julia was under it.
No one said anything.
Adira stood a few feet away, arms folded, her face set in something flat. Not cold. Not soft either. Just…still.
Behind her, the others gathered in a loose half-circle.
A few older men leaned on each other for support. A woman held a child close to her side, the kid peeking out from behind her leg, eyes fixed on Carl. Watching. Not understanding, but knowing enough to be afraid.
Carl swallowed.
He looked down at the shovel in his hands, then back at the grave.
Say something.
He glanced at Adira. She didn't move. Didn't offer anything.
Of course she wouldn't.
