Four hands join together. From a parent and child out to soil for a while and stop when going deeper is unnecessary. They plant a seed inside a skull. Then discard leaves on top. After, the child is weakened and ensleepened, rests on the ground by the hole, dreaming with the corpse in parallel. The parent walks back to the car alone. That burial slot bears the weight of the sleeping child. Because of this strain, the soil's tendons break and the skull tilts, acting alive. The parent returns to find bones wrapped in roots, skin replaced by topsoil, organs moving by way of insects, a few centipedes falling off the vertebrae. The undecaying skull and its termites smile, follow up by saying with its teeth that it was happy to sleep here. It wasn't too soft or wet, not too warm, not much of anything at all, not much to feel in the ground.