“Baby girl, I am so, so sorry about your mama.”

With no warning, Dune was crying hard. In public. For the first time. This wasn’t done, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. Elouise, her body soft and strong like Kama’s, seemed like she could take it all on.

And Elouise met the emotion with her own as she wept with Dune.

She murmured into Dune’s hair, “No one as brave, no one who held her line as tough. She was so good. So good, honey, so good.”

Elouise held Dune for a long time, grief crashing back and forth between their hearts.

“Great job in there,” Dune spoke finally, pulling back and wiping her face with her t-shirt as her breath started to land.

“I don’t understand how they think they can just make decisions like that with no warning!” Elouise’s eyes were hard for a moment. Then her age lines gave way to softness and she shrugged at Dune, shaking her head. “It’s no use. I’d be mad if they were forcing us to leave too. It’s an impossible place. It’s not that many of us left. They have to include us in this process.”

“Yeah. I guess just ... who? You know?”

“Girl I do not know. Everyday I wake up and cannot believe I am still here.” Elouise slid down the glass until the ground caught her, sat still. Dune slipped down and leaned her head on Elouise’s shoulder.

Neither of them had been very physical with their affection in the years they had known each other, worked together. Dune wondered why not, it felt so comfortable.

Elouise turned her face into Dune’s unkempt hair, “How are you?”

Dune answered without moving, “I’m here.”

“You eating enough? Sleeping right?”

“I’m eating too much honestly.” At this Dune grabbed a handful of her softening belly, handling it as if it belonged to another person. “Can’t stop. And having crazy dreams!”

“First of all, no such thing as too much in a body surviving trauma. Chile, when my mother died, I changed shape. And I began to do work in my dreams. Crazy just means honest sometimes. Write them down if you can, consider it another realm of ideas and growth.”

Dune accepted this homework, with doubts. She often woke up with the imprints of dreams all over her mind and body, her sheets in the disarray of an active sleeper. But she rarely kept hold of any memories, any details.

“What about Mama Vivian?” Elouise was patient with her questions, pulling Dune into conversation step by step.

“She’s confused. I think she wants to die.”