Thankfully, the meetings passed quickly and easily enough.
Mr. Clemens was, oddly enough, a regular. Always changing little things here and there about his funeral arrangements. Every time he saw a new commercial or was impressed by another service, he'd set up an appointment first thing so he could add it to his list of services. He was happy to cover the costs, and she was happy to help him make his wishes come true, even if she was only increasingly surprised by the growing grandiosity of his final event.
Then came quiet Mrs. Wilson, a gentle soul struggling to cope with the loss of her partner. Something about the old woman made everyone want to hug her. Sharon Nyx had been in the funeral business for several years now, but something about the Wilson case plucked at her heart. Her pride would call it indigestion, but she would never be able to fully convince herself it was all about business.
And Ms. Bartson, her resident eccentric, had come in with a list of demands for her dog's funeral. Typically their business was restricted strictly to humanoids, but Ms. Bartson, all skirt suits and loud hats, was a hard woman to refuse. Besides, it couldn't hurt to keep the funeral home's options open. The garish planning binder and its flashing sequins tempted her to think otherwise, but there was no time and less disposable income available to strike up a debate.
Shedding her blazer, she traded business attire for a grungy lab coat and faded purple scrubs and made her way into the morgue.
No comments:
Post a Comment