She chattered when she was happy. He chattered when he was nervous or unhappy, or nervous because he thought she was unhappy. He was most voluble when she was most in need of silence, for she composed herself in silence. But the words rolled off his tongue, a steady stream of words, pouring over her and wearing her down.

So she had come to the churchyard to sit alone awhile. She liked the old cemetery there where the ground was filled with bodies at rest, decomposed.

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The surface and beneath the surface