Repurcussions & CelebrationMature

I found myself soaking in the rain once again, my back hunched, my face down, and with a stony expression on my face. I was in all black- I was at Dave’s funeral.

            Miranda was somewhere near me, standing back with a black umbrella in her hand. Even after looking at her rain soaked face I could tell she was crying- her eyes were red.

            The day itself was summarizing the latest events and happenings. The black clouds hovering over and the steady patter of the heavy rain were singing the song of death.

            I looked at Dave’s freshly dug grave. I imagined him inside the coffin, the rain or the teary faces around him not bothering him at all.

            Thank you for everything, I thought, though I knew he couldn’t hear me.

            According to his will, Dave had left his food shack to me and Miranda, his most loyal employees. He left his personal earnings for some charity organizations and a little bit of it for his daughter who had disowned him.

            She had come for the funeral but no one even noticed her, leave alone talking to her.

            Dave had led a miserable life. He could rest now…rest forever…rest in peace.

                                                            ***

 

            “That’s all you can do?” Miranda asked me while we drove on the highway. I raised one eyebrow and accelerated.

            “Whoa, now that’s what I call speed!” she squealed in her seat.

            We had sold the shack to what I would call a responsible person. The place was never more beautiful, but the memories attached made me and Miranda decide to not continue working there further.

            We had packed our bags and taken all our cash and belongings.

            “I tell you, once we reach the city, we will find ourselves something good to do,” I said.

            “I have no doubts. But I won’t work in a restaurant again,” Miranda said, suddenly serious.

            There was an uneasy silence.

            “I am going to become a professional writer,” I declared proudly.

            Miranda laughed. “You sure you are good at writing?”

            “What?” I asked in horror.

            “I am just kidding!”
            Miranda bent over and kissed me.

            “Careful missy, I am driving!”

            I certainly didn’t notice the big red truck heading from the opposite direction. 

The End

3 comments about this story Feed