There’s a tree here only she can see. A tree she has always seen, but never felt. This stone wall circling it is important. She put the stones here, carried them all herself. She built this wall, seeing and feeling everything: her boys regarding her curiously; her husband smiling nonsensically. Dear Matty and Ronnie, mud covers their faces like warpaint. They play with those shields he made. She took their swords away. Away to this tree. This tree she wishes she could not see. This tree that hurts yet knows nothing, of her life, of the monster inside her husband.