Funeral

coffin.jpg

I watch from my seat, as everyone pays their respects.
I don’t care. Not one hoot.

Everyone’s been awfully aloof and cold, to me, at least. They don’t reply when I speak to them, or even lift their heads to look at me.

They’re all too wrapped up in their grief over the corpse.
Why?
It wasn’t like she was the most likeable person ever.

My face twists into a sneer as I remember her ‘legacy’.

Always annoyingly boastful of her wealth and her children’s academic success at New Year reunions, shoving her uneducated and ignorant opinions down her relatives’ throat, forever decked out in a hideous leopard-print dress that hugged her disgustingly pudgy figure.

Nasty. It always made me think of a potato horrendously gift wrapped in leopard-print paper.

I cringe physically.

Why am I even here in the first place? Wait, how did I get here?

Everything is fuzzy.
The last thing I remember is blacking out on my bed…

My thoughts are interrupted by a melodramatic wail preceding a screech sounding like it came from the depths of Hell as someone flies into the room.

“UWUAHUH! I’M SO SORRY I’M LATE!”

Oh God. That woman, just as noisy as ever.

Wait a minute…
If she’s here, then…

I stand up, walk to the coffin and peer inside.

I’m attending my own funeral.

April Ang 2H

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