Once the pastor had finished the letter, the audience lined up to say their goodbyes. Nina was last in line, behind A-B and A-C. A-C was holding A-B, and A-B was holding her baby. The line was long, but it moved quick. Nina watched Kayla's relatives go up to the coffin, say goodbye, then run off before their tears could catch them, but tears, they run at the speed of grieve.
Nina imagined their roles being reversed. Instead of Kayla being in that coffin, it was her. Instead of her extended family coming to pay their respects, it was her own. Instead of Kayla's parents standing off to the side, crying, it was her mother. Instead of herself standing here, imagining scenarios that would happen if the world was all right and just, it was Kayla, the three of them crying together, and not just two.
Instead of
Her turn at the coffin came.
She stood and stared at it. Everybody else had gone. It was just her and the dead body inside a $5,500 case of wood. That coffin was probably the most valuable thing she'd ever had. Nina wondered why the dead were treated to such luxuries, but mostly she wondered what it was like to be dead in that coffin right now. It was probably like
sleeping
but never dreaming
“So long, old friend. Hope you're in a better place than I am.”
ns 15.158.61.54da2
