The man at the back

Part 1

I walked through the empty streets, thinking about all the things I'd seen. That's all I've ever done. Watched. Assisted.

I went to a funeral today. The gravestones greeted me like old friends and I took my usual place at the back.

Beautiful stained glass windows decorated the window frames. Images of life, hope and despair conflicted with each other in chaotic harmony. I looked around the room; seeing people mourn the dead fascinated me. For me death was everywhere. This inevitable ending. Death was to me a friend.

All in black, people celebrated the man in the box's life. I can tell you this man was a nasty piece of work and only in death was he praised so highly.