It almost looks like a campsite, under the tree where we saw it (not "her," not "him," at least, not anymore). The long, trailing branches of the tree created a sheltering bower that might have kept out last night's rain, while today, the investigative team (spilled from two medical examiner's vans, a couple of police cars, a park's truck) stand, speaking in low voices, clustered in the golden sunshine on grass so green it almost glows, beneath a simple, friendly, cloudless blue sky.
We pause for a moment in our morning walk through the park to try and make sense of the spectacle, but we can't quite do it, not enough information, even though all the pieces are there, if we can only put them together.
"There was a person in there," I say afterward to Katie as we walk along the cobblestone path deeper into the park, holding hands and enjoying our day, "but they didn't look like their feet were touching the ground."
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