Likely it would have happened regardless of the earthquake, after all for every beginning there is inevitably an end. Time out of kilter. That’s all. Even so, a pity he had to die so young. When the soldiers had dragged his corpse out of the rubble he looked like an unwashed burly, surprisingly pinkish, pig awaiting a butcher’s slab and knife. She almost, yet not quite, smiled when realizing he died with his boots on. Just boots. That puzzled her although not unduly. In any event she had guessed his fate already. Stark evidence merely verification of what her heart had already advised her of.

Prior to the visible corroboration she had prayed. Prayed in hope of a miracle…denied common-sense the freedom to tell her otherwise. For the life of her she had no idea as to why. She was not an idiot. She knew full well that a prayer…