Cerulean Cape less of a stranger

backdated forrrr approx. oct 24th?

The days pull onward. Each one more monotonous than the rest; each one more numb, more miserly. Mama still isn't here. She keeps to Ava and avoids John as if he were a plague upon the consciousness. She does what is necessary; she hunts what she can. She bathes. And for more hours than not, she watches the foam roll over the bank of the sea.
Her eyelids sag; her chest heaves.
She wonders if there is a worse agony that could be felt.