He could smell the coming rain, the melted copper smack of an approaching storm. Gloom was too soft a word.
Their fingerprints stained the dirt, washed away by a thousand rains, but he knew they were still here, visible only at night, only when the silence was inviolable. He wanted to see them again, to test if they were real, if he was real. He could almost hear the echoes of their laughter, those first brave kisses, and then….
Yes, they were still here, all of them. They were born here.
“David,” she whispered, and he stopped.