by Liana Silva
The mother sat in the back of the funeral parlor, watching friends and family march up to the coffin. She had been quiet for days, not because she had nothing to say, but because she had no words that could express the bitter pain nestled in her heart ever since she heard the doctor say, "Your daughter is dead." One of her cousins, the one from Tampa, came up to her and said, "I'm so sorry for your loss. Lydia was such a bright young lady." The mother looked at her and stared at her black beaded necklace hiding amid the dark curly tendrils. "She was bright, but now she's dead," she replied — these being her first words in three days.
Liana Silva reads books and asks questions for a living, but she also likes to write fiction. She currently lives in upstate New York.