She laid them all out in shrouds, one by one, on the earth.
And then buried them.
No tears were shed as she worked mechanically, no rituals observed. She thrust the spade further, shifting the mud, ensuring there were no stones that could hurt the little bundles.
Finally, the work was done and she stood up, stretching. The sun was just beginning to peep out for the day and she walked back to her life, without a look back.
They asked her why she wore black at the office that day and joked about being in mourning.
She just smiled and said, ” I like black”.
Dreams of children belong in the graveyard, but dead dreams require mourning and so she mourned for a day.