I.
On the drive over, she had seen the webs. Hundreds of webs suspended inches
from the ground, clouds of spider-silk fog hovering through the roadside fields, threatened by invisible inhabitants. She had wondered what would happen if she stepped in the
silent traps.
The daze of spider-silk morphed into gravestones when she stepped out of the
car at the cemetery. A small crowd had already gathered around the pit. She saw uniforms
of various colors, dapper hats and shining buttons. Kelsey stepped past the guests, approaching a measly brown folding chair near the head of the coffin. She felt pity like
raindrops landing on her shoulders and seeping through the fabric until they touched her
blond freckles and pale skin, precipitating from the blurred faces surrounding her. She
kept her eyes averted, engaging instead a singular twist in the wood grain on the box. At
a quivering touch on her wrist, she glanced up, and her grandmother nodded down at
her. Kelsey touched her grandmother’s hand, and Grandma Matthews turned her gaze to
the minister.
Kelsey listened so hard to service that she heard nothing at all. She watched the
breeze tease the minister’s vestments and brush women’s hair into their eyes. She fiddled
with the