They’d arrived late, after a long drive.
“Would you,” asked the funeral director, “like to view the body?”
“No!” Ellie gasped, horrified.
“I would,” said David, grim-faced, ignoring his sister. “I’ve never been frightened of Dad, and I’m not going to start now he’s dead.”
Crushed, Ellie lingered outside the chapel-of-rest.
“Would you like to say goodbye to your mother?” says the same man today.
Ellie’s guilt smoulders still.
The sands of time may have shifted, but the moral high ground remains firmly in place.
“God, no! I’m not one for gawping at the dead.”
Friday Fictioneers last week, I’m still bereft of any form of creative inspiration. I hope this phase passes soon. Welcome back, Rochelle. Sounds like you had a wonderful time.