Rarity, Open
Rarity hadn't said a word since she arrived at the pyre maybe thirty or so minutes prior, save for a gracious 'hello' to those that bid it of her. Strength came from a place inside that she felt had been shut up, wrapped in chains, and locked away. Yet in that box there was a hole, small though it was, that seeped a small leak of hope and happiness for others.
She was eternally grateful that her daughter need not suffer her own fate, though she wondered what she had done to deserve it. In the end, she agreed with herself to say 'goodbye' and move on from sorrow. Surely, it's what Art would have wanted. He hated to see her upset, after all.
The boutique owner stood in the sand with bare feet and a long summery dress made of a soft, flowing cotton blend. Printed upon it seemed a smearing of color as if to mimic the sunset and one might wonder if it were not symbolic of closing a chapter in life, the same way the sun set on one day and rose into anew light. Rarity fiddled with her wedding band, the heels of her hand sort of propped against the handle of her children's stroller--made special with large wheels for the sand. It seemed practical given their home was on the beach, after all.