People whispered their condolences, hugged one another, and wiped tears from their eyes.
Everyone had come to say goodbye to little Mara.
She was only eight years old.
Or at least, that’s what everyone believed.
For hours, mourners filed past the white coffin placed at the front of the room. They left cards, flowers, stuffed animals, and handwritten notes.
Her father, Marcus, stood nearby accepting sympathy from friends and neighbors.
He appeared calm.
Too calm.