SILAS

Maya and I walked along the stone path between the rows of graves.

She had spent the entire drive watching the city pass outside her window. The bouquet had rested across her lap, and every attempt I made to draw her into conversation ended after a few words.

She had talked about visiting her mother several times over the months, but she’d never settled on a day. When she told me this morning that she was finally going, I insisted on coming along.

“It’s not too late to turn back,” she said, breaking the silence between us.

I slowed my pace to match hers. “I want to be here.”...