Grave Moment

Photo by Keagan Henman on Unsplash

I have been told not to move.

The damp seeping into my jeans where my knees are pressing into the mud is a cold reminder of my predicament. The rain is not falling hard, it is the kind of dreary drizzle that makes a day grey but at night really changes nothing, except you are getting wet. Water is dripping down my face, my uncovered hair is slowly getting waterlogged; I want to wipe my hand across it so that I don’t feel the drops creeping…