"I'm not running, not anymore." That much, at least, was true, or true as she understood it, "I'm just trying to understand, and if I can't do that, trying to just come to peace with it."

She scratched at the back of her neck, a half-nervous movement, mostly because she didn't know what else to do with her hands, "I've died four times in less than six months." Less than three, even, but she mostly wasn't thinking about that, "Which is already three more than I thought I'd get, and definitely too many times too close together." She shook her head again, pushing to her feet so she could continue misting the tomato plants just to have something to do, "And I don't need to know how, or why, I know none of you have those answers. But I do need a chance to process everything."