Who are we burying today?Mature

Homer sat in his truck looking at the "cheat sheet" from the office. As usual, Haydon was running late. But today, Homer didn't feel much like digging. Haydon opened his driver's side door.

"Hey! Who are we burying today?!" he beamed, but his smile faded as he caught Homer's eyes. "What is it Hom?" He snatched the paper from Homer's hands.

"Nita Simmons. Who's Nita Simmons?"

"She's, er, WAS my aunt."

"Naw, that can't be, Hom. See here? She ain't old enough! This here says the body was only... 35 days old."

Haydon scrunched his face up. "Oh Hom, I know you hate it when babies die, but maybe this one had a problem; the kind of problem you wouldn't want her to live with. Like a cripple or something."

"No, Hay. You're right, this one isn't my aunt."

"See? Nothing to feel sad about!"

"It was my niece."

Haydon froze. "Oh. Oh Hom!"

"I was going to see her this weekend. She's the first girl born into my family in generations! And she got that baby disease, that she just didn't wake up from."

Haydon had no response. He simply took off his cap and shared a moment of silence with his comrade.

They then silently dug a smaller hole than normal. The sun shone on them and the breeze blew, both quite contrary to their spirits.

The End

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