In a small way, Ophelia despised the way it made her feel. The sand squishing between her toes, the crisp salt air attacking her sense of smell and the way the salt stiffened her jeans as the water crashed onto them. On the other hand, she enjoyed the sense of solidarity. No one bothered her, offering condolences, or bringing casseroles for her to eat. She was sick of it. Her mother had just died 2 weeks before, and the funeral was yesterday. For weeks, people came around offering condolences without knowing the truth about her mother. Her mother was a hard pill to swallow.