She circled the cemetery, edging around the crumbling stones and reading the names and brief epitaphs of people from the past. Set away from the town, scratched into the barren country hills like some despised monolith to a cruel era. There were no pathways, nor taps for refreshing flowers. She doubted flowers had been laid for centuries. Her deep-set eyelids, stained with brown shadow hung over profound blue irises, protected by thickly coated black lashes. She hid underneath a taut, round, brown hat hanging her head as if shamed or full of remorse.

Worn red stained her narrow lips.