She stared at the hole in her beautiful home for longer than a healthy person would. The grass left juvenile scratches on her thighs and calves and neck as she laid on her back in the front yard and watched everything under the moon.

Four people passed; two paused in morbid curiosity of some rumor they’d heard at church, one never stopped, and the last one was still here. She stood back on the sidewalk, scrutinizing the same void above the room of a boy she’d never met, but felt she should’ve known.

He left gaping holes in these women.