An Unfinished StoryShe let the third rose fall from her hand onto the grave of her youngest sister, wondering, as she always did when she visited their graves, why she wasn’t with them, why there were only three headstones and an odd empty space between them and the next grave. A space she was supposed to occupy one day, if she wanted to. She did not.An Unfinished Story
Mrs. Duane sighed before whispering goodbye to her two brothers and sister. Idly, as she walked to her car where her grandson waited to drive her home, she wondered where they were. She often did this, whether at the cemetery or at home. Some
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I used to be with it. But then they changed what it was. Now what I'm with isn't it, and what's it seems scary and wierd. It'll happen to you." - Abe Simpson
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