Re: Quicklog: Ella/Marta
[There's shushing sounds. The stroke of fingers over ink-black hair. Ella rocks her like she's Bethie and she's two and she woke from a bad dream, like loss is something you ever wake up from, because she knows it isn't. Death is real, and ugly and awful and the cab ride won't make any of it go away. It takes thirty minutes, and the meter ticking past a number she's not real fond of, but she shoves bills at the man who doesn't even look in the back to show sympathy, and pulls Marta out]
We're going inside. [There's more of the shushing. More of the quieting. She'll make tea. It won't make it better but there'll be quiet and grief likes quiet real well, and Bethie's at the sitter all night long.]