excused

“What it must be,” she began and paused, hands lifting like feathers. “What it must be like, to be that …” “Free?” he answered. “Light? Unencumbered?” She thought a moment, then tilted her head and shrugged. “Quiet?” He reached to cup her elbow without a thought; he had to touch her. She did not resist. Her forearm dropped onto his. They stood like that, facing each other, one arm to one arm, for a long time and did not speak or look into each other’s eyes. She broke the silence with a cough, then: “Don’t bury me.” “I wouldn’t,” he answered, eyes dropping into the dark soil around the gleaming capsule. “I won’t.”