(This is an entry from Rosaleen after May committed suicide, from the novel A Secret Life of Bees)
May passed a week ago, we just finished the vigil and I am certain she has traveled the path to heaven easily. I have done nothing but cry and cook since her death, she was my only friend in this new covert world Lilly and I have entered. Everyone is in mourning; June sits in her room day after day and plays her cello and August is constantly at May's wailing wall or down by the river. Maybe she finds some comfort in reading all of the world's pains which have finally caused May's death. Lilly occasionally sleeps with for comfort, but I can tell something other then this tragedy is eating away at her; it must be the lies we have spun in order to stay here. We must come clean or their burden could be the death of us, like the world's pains were to May.
'Tis a great book. It's time for me to read it again.
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