The Essential is Invisible

"How are you?" Bianca asked.
Angela met Bianca's eyes in her reflection in the pond. "How am I?" Bianca's hand felt warm in her, the sun poured on them like honey, thick, golden.  She closed her eyes, closing out the inessentials. "I want a lamb, could you draw me one?"
"'Dessin-moi un mouton.'" Bianca quoted.  Her sister loved her Saint-Exupery, not quite to the point of obsession, but it could get annoying. "Sorry, no pencil or paper."
"Oh well." Angela laughed softly. "I wouldn't know what to feed one anyway."
"Yeah.  So, how are you?" Bianca repeated.
The sigh was almost angry. "You're going to keep asking, aren't you?"
"Until I get an answer." Bianca admitted. "I do want to know."
"Okay."
The silence stretched between them like the string between their hearts.
"Is that all?" Bianca cut the silence.
"Yes.  I'm okay."
"Then I guess it's time."
"Yes." Angela said, and sighed, this time sadly. "Time." The hand in hers chilled, slipped from hers.  She opened her eyes, alone by the pond, the sunlight faded, honey to lemon to silver to ashen. "I'll still think of you in a field of wheat." The ashen day surrounded her, like the days before, the days to come.
This, she knew, was what it was like, in the Lands of the Dead.