They creaked and groaned like something out of a bad scary movie. Not that movies frightened me any more: there were scarier things in the world than special effects. I wished I could tell Steph that. Steph used to shriek like a banshee at the gory bits. Steph loved scary movies. This place looked different without all the people, all the black cars. The lawns and beds were lovely and empty and soulless, a manicured municipal garden. Except for the regimented headstones, of course. Except for those. My heart thrashed. I desperately didn’t want to be seen. I still felt like some primitive life-form that hadn’t been long out of the swamp, and I didn’t think I was ever going to stop feeling that way. It had been two months now, and this was the first time I’d come here since the funeral. It took me a while to find the right row, and then a little longer to find the exact place, because there wasn’t a proper headstone yet.
