I should feel more, June thought to herself.
The pastor dragged on and on. She'd stopped paying attention to what he had to say a long time ago, and just stared at the ground.
That was all right. She was allowed to look like she was in shock.
I should feel something. Anything.
The turned-over ground was a different color from the topsoil. They'd tried to cover it with a mat of fake green grass, but it only sort of worked, and she could see the reddish earth peeking through the gaps and around the edges. It reminded her of Sam, actually, these last few years, right up to the way it seemed to spread like it had half a mind to take over the audience as well.
He'd been good at taking things over, Sam.
She'd called him her Sam, once, a very long time ago, and he'd called her his June. Only one of those had turned out to be true.
Her daughter prodded her with a bony elbow, and she started.