“Green? Daniel, I haven’t turned a hose on in this yard for almost a month. The council locked our spigots.” “Come see for yourself,” Daniel said. They walked back through the quiet rows together. When they reached the plot, Sylvia stopped dead in her tracks. She crouched and pressed two fingers deep into the soil.
When she pulled them back, they were coated in rich mud. “That’s dripping wet… But there isn’t an irrigation line anywhere beneath Section C. It doesn’t make any sense.” A strange chill crept down Daniel’s neck. He stepped around to the back of the headstone, peering down into the tall, untrimmed grass behind the granite slab. That was when the illusion broke.