Theresa’s church was a quiet church. Centered in a rural part of Appalachia, it was a traditional Catholic Church, and it stood high off on the mountain, away from the rest of that dilapidated, impoverished town. Theresa was acquainted with everyone, and she was friendly, too. But there was one person who’s company she enjoyed the most: an older, large man named Tiny.

On a cold winter day, when the trees were barren and frost was blanketing the grass, Tiny had died. He left to Theresa a hunting knife he used. She accepted the gift, at first, with enthusiasm. Once she heard of Tiny’s death, however, she accepted the gift feeling a swirl and mix of feelings inside her.