As the sky faded to night, her anger dissipated—but not in a healing way, just dulled, like forged iron sizzling in a cold pail of water.

I had finally begun to understand Seth’s relationship with his flask, how some days, the memories grew too heavy to bear.

Ice upon ice, and yet, inside, she melted and mourned all the same.

Harsh, bitter laughs exploded from her like shrapnel, and she didn’t care who was cut in the process.

He stroked her back and kept a fierce grip on her like she’d fade away into one of the thousands of ghosts in this cemetery.