“His funeral is tomorrow?”

The office I am sitting in smells like fresh grass clippings and gasoline, the lawn mower is outside my window and the air is still chilly for some reason. A girl is walking by, she stops outside my door, just beyond the frame and her voice which was loud the moment before suddenly drops.

“What?” she asks, she is on the phone, but all I can see is her shadow on the wall.

“His funeral is tomorrow…?” her voice comes out in a hushed tone and goes from cheerful to shocked, “whoa, I…” and then as if realizing she is in a public building where people can observe this moment, people like myself, she stops again, “Hold on I…” and I hear her footsteps scurry to the door that reaches the outside, and slam it open with unheard words frantically spilling over to the person on the other line.

I sit at my desk, staring at the place her shadow was, before taking another sip of coffee, and going back to my computer.

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