They buried Callum on a Wednesday because the funeral home couldn't schedule sooner and waiting felt wrong but not waiting felt worse. The city had a backlog. Twenty-six families from two nights ago. Eight more from scattered incidents the news was calling "unprecedented weather anomalies" because calling them Entity manifestations would require explanations nobody with a mortgage and a reputation was ready to give.
The cemetery sat on the east side where the land had been cheap enough that even dead people could afford real estate. Headstones leaned like old men who'd given up on posture. Trees that had seen better centuries provided shade nobody needed because the sky had decided rain was more appropriate than sun and who were they to argue with weather that understood the assignment.
