(fiction)

On the day of my mother's funeral I was very tired and sleepy. The world was heavy beyond my eyelids. Nobody danced for me on that day. The funeral director's car drove me to the incinerator, I wanted to stretch out along the back seat and rest. There was nobody else there. Beyond the trees beyond the field strung with low walls dotted with plaques and rose bushes too neatly kept a crake called from the marsh.