From the fields and fields and fields of unstoppably green corn, waving through the wind like a reed against it all, she stood and said nothing because that part was done and something else had yet to replace it. He came there too, to see, but it wasn’t the way he thought it would be because nothing is and that’s fine. I was once good, and would be again. Corn never lies. Not in places like these. Not to people like them
