town, death, rotting

Document Type



The mortuary seemed to keep the town alive. Always stately and freshly painted. It looked like one of those plantation houses from Gone with the Wind. Like a place where lots of well-off men come on a Saturday afternoon to hold tall, cold glasses and toast tall, cold women in white. It even had a gazebo-type thing out in the middle of a lot of grass where a band ought to play something lively. Of course it wasn't that kind of place. The mortuary was a kind of mirage that way. But then, I didn't know anyone who would have looked quite right sitting in one of the high-backed wicker chairs on the porch, because the rest of the town was old and declining.