Mira would awake at midnight. And now it was ten to. Opening the coffin lid, the two looked down upon Mira. It seemed odd.
Her face was tranquil, her lips parting softly. Her long hair was in a plait, which came over her right shoulder. She was dressed in a long, strapless gray dress, which fell loosely around her. Her lily-white feet peeked out from under the floaty material. Her hands clasped each other, laying on her stomach.
"What was it like, Craig? To see her die?" Abby asked, in the cool silence of the night, broken only by the occasional passing car, and her own voice.
"Angry. And useless. She died for a dead man, Abby. And there was nothing I could do." Craig looked into the grave, pulling his long coat off. It was too warm.
"Of course there wasn't, silly boy. Once someone's name is on the list, you can't change that. I'd have hoped you'd learned that much."
"Don't patronize me, Abby. I died eight years ago. You died...hm, let's see...." Craig started sarcastically counting on his fingers, to suggest how much older Abby was that him. She hit im around the back of the head, making him flinch.
"I'm only from Victorian times, thank you very much!" She snapped. "That's as bad as asking a lady her age!"
"Huh...what lady...?" Craig muttered to himself. Unfortunately, Abby heard.