The two students stepped off the path.
Their shoes found the grass. Their eyes swept directly toward the oak's shadow — toward the exact space where Marla lay on her back in the trampled grass, bra unclasped and shoved up above her breasts, skirt bunched around her waist, white panty pulled to the side, her thick dark pubic hair matted and glistening, her whole body still trembling through the tail end of an orgasm that had stripped her of every remaining shred of composure.
They looked directly at her.
Through her.
Their eyes moved across the shadow like it was empty air and kept going.
"I don't see anything," the girl said, frowning. She had a ponytail and a philosophy textbook tucked under her arm.
"I swore I heard something," the boy muttered, turning a slow circle.
Marla didn't breathe.
