Wapun Meadow when the coffin shakes and the needle breaks

She sinks slowly to the ground as the woman's broken attempts at words wash over her, still unable to open her eyes and lift her gaze to the other. When Liri's whispered questions finally come, they are white-hot knives to her chest, and words spill from her before she can think about them: I don't even know him — and I — don't know if I could love any man, I wish I could give him back; she can't bring herself to say it, leaving it to hang unspoken in the air because she knows she cannot give him back. Their children need him — she needs him, loathe as she is to admit it. She sucks in a breath, eyes still closed tightly as if that will erase the scene before her from reality, as if she could open her eyes any moment and see this is all a dream. I'm sorry. She repeats, voice breaking again, though she knows it fixes nothing. She has nothing else to offer but her own tears and heartbreak.