This is one of my favorite places to be. Yup, it’s a graveyard. No, I don’t know a soul there. I just like to hang out under this tree and talk to the family buried underneath it. I asked the parents once why the daughters were segregated from the rest of the family, but no one had a good answer for me. They don’t talk much…or at all. Probably a good thing. Sometimes I wish they did. I want to know their stories, but for now I’ll just make up my own.