What's one thing that's every mortician's fear you might ask?
I mean what fear should one have when they are literally dealing with the dead?
Well....for Alafia Harris there's only one fear that lurks in the walls of Pearl's Funeral Home. The fear o...
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Monday, April 14th 8:43 am 📍Pearl's Funeral Home| Job Lane Spanish Town
𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝙿.𝙾.𝚅
Brandon always found a way to measle himself back into my life.
Whether it was through a random toot of his horn as he sped passed me on the highway or through him sauntering his way with a casual ease through the doors of Donovan's funeral home.
He knew exactly how to have me flustered and frustrated.
Just the slightest bit of longing would have me crawling back to him.
He felt familiar...
Like home.
And so every time we locked eyes anywhere whether it was here or out and about it took less than 48 hours for us to somehow be tangled beneath a crumbled sheet.
The thought of yesterday's occurrence flushes back to the forefront of my mind and my grip around the handle of the drawer containing our client's documents tightens.
My thumb gains its own pulse and I lean even more forward resting my throbbing head against the cold metal of the filing cupboard.
Gosh, mi need fi change...this is so unladylike of me.
From one man to the next?
A soft knock to my door snaps me out of my little world hauling me right back to the workload ahead of me that I so desperately want to toss to the side and not sort through.
"Yes?" I voice, leaning back my head to capture a view of the body emerging from behind the door.
Levi pokes his head inside, our eyes making four. "Mrs. Alafia." He acknowledges me and I softly push the drawer close before pivoting on my heels to fully face him.
Eyebrows raised, lips curled up into a small smile coupled with a faint creased skin decorating my forehead. I wag my hand giving him the go-ahead to speak.
Much like the men his age Levi respected those in authority above him despite age or gender. He hardly spoke unless spoken to and did his work to the T.
As such I treated him more like an uncle than a worker. He drags his feet further into the room, allowing the door behind him to soft close its self.
