#dievout

She was carefully not thinking about the last time she saw Elijah. The way he'd looked at her then—like her parents did sometimes, like they couldn't quite believe what she'd become, like they couldn't quite stomach it. He was supposed to be different. Better. In the end, though, she supposed one didn't have to grow up in Marrow to understand that there was something wrong with Maki Matsui.

The smoke curled up out her nose, bitter but sweet. Cotton candy and nicotine. She didn't bother offering him her cigarettes this time, not that he'd have accepted one anyway. “Guess you're out of a job now? Bummer. Or not, maybe. 'Cause, no offence, but grave digging sounds like a nightmare.”

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