Graveside

It feels like the springtime. I can't be sure, the skies are gray and the air is damp. I tell by the smell that it is the mountains of West Virginia.

I am in a trailer/shack that is neat and well kept. There is white and off white walls and sheer white drapes billowing from an open window. I am sitting in a room. Other events have happened previous to this, but I can't recall what they are.

I seem to have seen them outside the window. Different activities and different times. All of them involved PJK I am in PJK's room though she is dead. Has been for a long time. The other events are either memories I have had of her or dream events she was actually in. Either way she is gone now, and I lament her loss.

From the wall there is a hand three time the scale of a normal hand, connected to an arm that is all made from very crude looking thick basket wicker. I touch it and it is old and decrepit and breaks a little with my touch. It sadly hangs at an angle that seems lifeless, now. I smell the scent of bacon grease from hundreds of previous breakfasts wafting coldly in the air.