You're listening to The Dry by Jane Harbor.

RAD FOR YOU BY STEVEN SHANAHAN

On the way, Fort Pass the Fire Warning sign, the danger now elevated to extreme. Outside,

the wind was up.

The burial itself had been a private one, so he hadn't been to the Hadler's graves,

but they were easy to find.

Brand new. The polished headstones looked like indoor furniture accidentally left outside

among their weather-beaten neighbours.

The graves were ankle deep in a sea of cellophane, stuffed toys and withered flowers.

Even from several feet away, the pungent smell of floral decay was overpowering.

Carons and billy's graves were piled high, while the offerings under Luke's headstone

were sparse.

Fort wondered if it would be Jerry and Barb's responsibility to clear the graves when

the gifts crossed the line from tribute to trash.

Barb had enough trouble in the farmhouse, let alone on her knees with a bin bag, wretchedly

sifting through the withered bouquets and trying to decide what to keep and what to throw

away.

No way.

Luke made a mental note to check.

He sat for a while on the dry ground by the graves, ignoring the dust that coated his

suit trousers.

He ran a hand over the engraving on Luke's headstone, trying to shake the unreal sensation

...