The car ride to the funeral was 49 minutes.
49 agonizing minutes.
My aunt tried to talk to me 49 times.
I counted.
I did not reply.
Because I do not talk to anyone but Joseph.
All because it happened.
She asked me what I was going to say for my speech.
Joseph told her he was speaking instead.
She was confused, because I was the one who was amazing at writing and speaking in front of crowds.
But it's been 449 days since I've talked.
Obviously I wasn't going to be giving a speech.
I had to write Joseph's speech.
So I did.
I wrote 49 words.
On purpose.
YOU ARE READING
49
Short Story"The number 49 never used to have any significance in my life. It was always just the number after 48 and before 50. But that was before it happened."
