"Grandpa Kirk died yesterday, at the blessed age of Seventy eight." Said Ansel as he spoke into the microphone mounted to the dark wood podium scratched and banged up from years of neglect, rain dripped through the church's ceiling the air was dank, dirty, and moist. Morning light beamed through  the huge stained glass window behind him, some of it shattered and discolored. "We were able to give Kirk a joyous extra eight years, before he died a peaceful and natural passing, in a way we saved him from the ruthless fate he would've faced at the hands of the Nazi Regime, that he would've faced eight years before his death.

Ansel wiped tears from his eyes, as he stepped down from the literal soap box, and walked towards the brown coffin, walking past puddles on the darkened red carpet. He held a bouquet of roses and rested it on top of the coffin, he then pushed down on the coffin, it sank down into the floor and fell into a chamber of countless other coffins, the ones Ansel saved.