The air in the crematorium was thick, smelling of ozone and the suffocating perfume of lilies

exit. Marcus looked toward the furnace. The employees, suddenly realizing they were standing inside a crime instead of a ceremony, backed away from the controls with pale faces.

The machine had finally jammed.

I leaned over the coffin and placed myself between Clara and every person who had tried to erase her.

“You thought I was simple,” I said. “You continue reading …