I got back into the car, revved up the engine, and started the two-hour-long drive down to the cemetery at the outskirts of town. I visited it more often than I should, more often than my father and brothers did. Parking the Porsche close to the family plot, I climbed out. It was already noon, and the heat and humidity hung thickly in the air, suffocating and uncomfortable after the air-conditioned drive. I went over to the flower stand operated by a burly, elderly woman and purchased a dozen white Calla lillies — they were Abigail's favourite, and began the walk up the small hill.
The wet grass yielded beneath my feet, soft and covered in moss. A thick black gate surrounded the plot of land housing a large number of the deceased Stravkos family. I strode my usual path silently, noting th
