Excerpt

What the ghost talks about.

Come back to Ada’s present time. She walks, and walks, and sings to herself. Sometimes she stops and listens. For what? For me? I am distracted by her movement, but I try to understand. It’s hard to move forward. It’s hard to be so linear. She is so concerted. She breathes so relentlessly. She trudges with one foot, and the other. The noise of the dirt, the noise of the living world all around her. Swish of wind, thump of horse feet, her own breath and her heart beating. Accumulating until I want to scream, one moment on top of the next, each moment enough, enough in itself to watch for an eternity, but then another on top of it, another and another.