Taxes

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I look over at my friend, then back to the road. My friend puts a hand on my shoulder, covering her mouth, and I feel a rush of... something. Not quite sympathy; this man didn't deserve that. He'd been known as a stalker in our neighborhood, but no one had found enough proof to put him away. I've never been good about death, though. Not in the sense that I can't handle it; I'm just really bad about knowing what to do or say when someone passes on, even with people I know.

As I see the man take his last breath in, I frown. Surely his death wasn't that bad of a thing. If he didn't have a lot of things he was leaving behind, it might even be that he's better off wherever he's going.

I turn to my friend and she looks me in the eyes. "You know," I start, looking for the right words in this situation and trying to come up with something positive. "At least he won't have to worry about taxes anymore. Does hell have taxes?" She just kinda half nods. "Oh. Well, he might still have to worry about taxes then..."


Quote:

"At least he won't have to worry about taxes anymore. Does hell have taxes? Oh. Well he might still have to worry about taxes." - Lightningback, Speech Prompts, "Shit I Said Without Context #1"

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