"It's so green, the grass I mean," she says while her lengthy, lovely fingers intertwine with the cloak of muted, viridescent blades, each one a singular knife waiting to ensnare you. A tear slips, trickles down her temple, and cascades over a strand of lustrous chestnut hair. The droplet reaches the end of the lock and soaks into the chilled, crumbling soil. Her tear gives life to the smallest grasses and insects deep below the carpeted floor of the Earth. What had even started all this? Life? No, the lack there-of. If a tear could give life, what is so huge as to take away the very life that is taken for granted? The woman's mind slowly faded into a soft hum. With a gaze up into the clear, serene sky, the silent words "You would like it", slip from her softly upturned lips. Her tranquil eyes cloud over, the tears rolling over her thick lashes and traveling the path along her cheek bone. Her half-smile gradually twitches into a wide grin. "It's constant and deep and alluring," a pause.
A graceful hand starts to claw at the dirt. With each stroke, a memory rambles it's contents all throughout the woman's shivering head. Chunks of earth, smelling of the rocky shore lining a mountain creek, fling into the thick moonlit night. Cold remnants of earth stain the woman's fingers and olive face. Disaster flits into her eyes. The woman screams in anger a muddle of indecipherable words as tears stream town her cheeks. Her body collapses into a pile on the ground as her frame jumps to the beat of a heart with each choking sob. Her fingers creep up above her head and waltz across the engraved letters on the stone. A soft grasp ripples through her hand. The fluttering breeze grapples the hair away from the subtly dreamy eyes of a young, lost woman. Air courses into her lungs and over the mountains and canyons that make up her delicate body, drying up the tiny rivers who called her face their bed.
