This is no slow grief. It does not emerge at the tail end of denial, anger, negotiation, depression, or acceptance. It flares up at once, like an all-consuming fire within her, a fire that takes all the oxygen from the air until she's lying on the ground, lashing at the gravel and panting for air. Her body tries to twist into itself, as if there's no spine, as if it is desperately trying to quench the flames inside.

Death is the ultimate state of powerlessness. Powerlessness is the ultimate despair.

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