March 30, 2010 - 6:51 AM
They begin to dig furiously, and I scream and sob at them to pause; as they seem to have no intention of opening the lid before the descent, which looks like a door, to let us look.
The kinder looking of the young men obliges me, and though I'm feet away, I see clearly the contrast of the speckles and blanched waxiness against the eyebrows, which have been darkened. I don't approach her, but look around frantically at our guests as if to say, "Doesn't she look beautiful. Still."
At that exact moment I see and hear her yawn, and though it was a dream I know from my waking ruined state that the most real bit of me believed she was alive, and I run to her.
I whisper that I knew she would wake up if they opened it for a third time.