The air had been foggy and dense, clinging to the mass of people, their bodies clothed in
dark black formal wear. The streetlights a few dozen yards away shone dimly through the thick
atmosphere, and the dew on the grass caused everyone’s feet to slip while they walked to the
gravestone.

Elizabeth Pham had clutched her dark blazer on top of her black dress. Nearly a hundred
people milled around her, suffocatingly close. Today had been a whirl of emotions. People she
didn’t even know had given her their condolences, with hushed tones, and gazes cast down to
the grass below.

The casket, made from strong mahogany, rested beside the pit. It was empty, Elizabeth
knew, but she couldn’t help but feel connected to it all the same. The celebrant had stood there
then, his hands clasped.

It wasn’t long afterward before Elizabeth was called to say a few words. The crowd turned
to her, their eyes only now lifting from the dewy grass to await her speech.

The words wouldn’t come. They had risen from her throat, prepared and carefully
selected, but they had found themselves trapped. Elizabeth stood there in silence, staring at the
casket, before she looked away and stepped aside, the eyes of the mourners around her
following her.

She had thought she was prepared for this. She had so much to say about him, memories
to share, but the words had caught in her throat, refusing to leave.

These same words now bounced around in her head as she lay in her bed, the dim yellow
light from her reading lamp casting a soft glow on the walls.

The night sky outside was devoid of any light. The moon was hidden by the clouds, the
darkness enveloping Elizabeth’s home, her street, and the neighborhood.

Usually, she was comfortable in the dark. She was never one for big overhead lights,
preferring dim lamps and sunlight. Today, though, she couldn’t help but fear it.

It had been months. Elizabeth thought that she had come to terms with it already, but
here she lay, staring her closet door down, the silence of the night louder than ever.