Leaving Comments

The sky is gray. I watch blindly as the wood coffin is lowered into the ground. Black umbrellas are like mushrooms crying as the wet rain drips off and finds its place alone on the ground. My tears stream off my face and join the raindrops on the barren cement.

A sallow faced man with a pointed nose and graying hair reads out of a black book in words that sound like garbled nonsense. The stone is engraved with well-deserved words.
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