Another black bird tumbled from the sky, candle flame pinched between thumb and forefinger, smothered like a growing seed suddenly vanished with a cramp and a house left empty like her wrecked womb.
Elana scooped the bird into her soil-stained hands, longing to be embraced once more.
“That’s a dozen this week,” Sheriff Mildred said, eyes cast skyward. It’d been raining birds for three months, more each day.
Elana stroked the bird, as she and Alistair had once caressed her stomach. She inhaled deeply, tears dripping down her cheeks.
“How many more?” asked Sheriff Mildred.
“Until he comes home,” she said.