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Weekly Contest #355
I chose a seat near the back of the tiny chapel, shifting on the hard wooden bench to find a comfortable position. Angry guitar music blasted through the room so loudly that conversation was impossible. At the front stood an urn containing the young man’s ashes, surrounded by laughing relatives exchanging backslaps and stories. This is a funeral, isn’t it? I wondered. Everyone seemed strangely happy to be there. Everyone except me. The young man had died in a fiery car crash just days before, leaving behind a widow and young son. His grandmo...
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