Rosalyn and her mother glared at one another and Sully shifted uncomfortably as prayer was said. A round of “amens” signaled to Sully it was alright to lift his head and look anywhere other than his feet.

Rosalyn’s grip on Sully’s hand tightened and threatened to turn his fingers purple if he didn’t do something quick, so he slipped his hand as nonchalantly as he could from hers. She looked at him with a frown but by now the casket was being slowly lowered into the ground and James Jenkins was on the edge of a breakdown.

Sully gave Rosalyn a nudge, “You should go to him,” he whispered. He tried to avoid the eyes of Annette Jenkins who had turned her focus completely on the two of them since their emergence from the Church, as if her anger for them could quell the pain of losing her baby.

As Rosalyn turned to go to her father, Sully turned and walked away from the crowd. Halfway between the church and the first row of graves, black figures dashed between headstones in a heinous game of hide and seek.