She's rocking and hugging her waist. My heart aches, then flushes with anger, as the man across the way is whispering to his companion. Suppressing the urge to scream, I clutch my jacket. And the procession begins. My eyes follow the black coats and hats as they turn their backs on Mary, heading off to continue on with their lives.
Umbrellas shake and close, car doors slam.
My legs crumble beneath me. Wet grass sticks to my dress and slides along my nylons. And all the words I never thought I'd have to say so soon are all lost in the jumble of mush that has become my brain. Two weeks ago. I was sitting with her.