“There was space here in the dirt for a body. The earth was cold and loose, nothing grew beneath; it would be easy. She leaned into the topsoil, pushing her hands through the loam, feeling it soft between her fingers.
Preparing. A ritual.
There was no shovel, just her own mortal strength. Anyone might think she was gardening, and she supposed she was in a way. A return. A beginning. ”
— TIDAL FEAR, Marina Green