Continued from May 30, 2018
#AmWriting #Fiction #IndieAuthor

Marcus walked through the entrance into the funeral home followed closely by Dale.

“Looks like they’ve only just begun setting up.” Dale observed as various people streamed past with chairs, flowers, and boxes of tissues.

“Marcus-and little Dale-oh, my gosh, how are you holding up?” Funeral Director Howe said as he came speed-walking out of a doorway. His pin-striped suit only made him appear more thin than he already was. As with every other time Marcus had seen him, his pale face had a sad smile set behind a layer of whatever powder he used.

“I’m doing alright, Mr. Howe.” Marcus replied as he felt another hollow thud in his chest as though calling him on the lie.

“Call me Harold, please!” He said, “And you don’t have to be strong here. This is a place of good-byes, and a place of healing.”

Marcus noticed that while his face was set with the sad smile of a professional, his eyes couldn’t hide the excitement as he stared at his chest.

“How’s preparations going, Harold?” Dale said. A wave of relief washed over Marcus as Dale stepped between them.

“Huh? What was that? I’m sorry…” Mr. Howe said, blinking a few times as he looked up at him. “Oh, yes! Preparations are nearly complete. My people are very efficient at their jobs.”

Marcus watched the way Mr. Howe’s hands moved as he talked. The ring finger on his right hand was still slightly bent from when Dylan had been here last.

Suddenly, Marcus felt as though he were suffocating. His chest wouldn’t move as his ears and face burned hot. He felt dizzy and the room tilted. He heard someone say his name as the room went dark.

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