Every evening the neighbors complained to the police for violation of public order and safety when the first lady was being put to bed to the sound of the fanfare. We don’t even live in a monarchy, they would screech, this is a republic.
Lying down in a golden crib, she blushed as if seduced into luxury she’d never claim to deserve. She, too, didn’t know that the most majestic pieces of furniture in the world are dedicated to death.
But Eve will never die. Persistently ill, she’ll dream her life away and every so often turn in her sleep to till the grounds bellow the hedge that separates the dead from the rest.