Down Twill Pass

Chapter 1

Hubbard Funeral Home. The big bolded black letters embroidering the stale brick wall do not somewhat reduce the despair I feel. Yet, this is a normal day. My keys jingle jangle as I stick them into my back pocket. "Smart, Lydia, smart." I mumble. And back into the realization that I'm at work. On my 26th fucking birthday. Not like 26 is a intricate number or anything but of all my shitty birthdays, this really beats it.

"Lydia!" I really have to see him today. "Ah, Martin, how are you darling?" I laugh but it isn't real nor is it even realistic so I'm surprised he buys it. He presents a box. "Your favorite." I have no idea what I'm looking at if I'm honest. But I grab the box anyways.

I enter the dark and dim lobby of the mortuary. The lobbyist isn't here and to be quite frank that's more than strange. The lilac in the white vase atop the desk wilts. Again, strange of it not to be watered. Miss Marwa used to be a gardener. That lilac is her pride and joy so to see it wilting runs me the wrong way. A letter is left on the desk. I can't help but read it and turns out it's for me. My hand feels the smooth texture of the paper. "Lydia, 3500 Grove Rd, auburn colored mahogany casket in the far back, suicide." I grimace, I have a weird gut feeling about this. Beside the letter is the hearse keys. We have one hearse at the funeral home as it only services a town of 300. It's a shiny shade of jet black, complimentary to my hair. The windows are tinted presumably because a body within a casket typically fills the back.

I enlist in the help of a few of my co-workers to lift the casket into the hearse but it's nearly like nobody is around. Did they really expect me to drag the casket all the way outside and get it in myself? Apparently; nobody responded to my asking, they all just stared as if they were zombies in desk chairs. And then in came my boss Franklin. Before he could even reach out a hand I began to expel my anger towards to the work conditions today. He nodded and then offered his assistance. A very calm man in response to my excessive attitude. Somehow, the two of us could manage the 200 pounds and swiftly the casket slid into the back of the hearse. He signaled his "I'm busy basically fuck you" signal and walked away. I wanted to fall to the ground and wail but this was reality. This was it, no more no less.