And I should be there too ... with them. I must hurry....
* * * * * * * * *
The red of the sunset is turning to lavender ... a color of death and mourning.... The leafless sycamores along the boulevard are spreading on that sombre sheet of flame the black lace-work of their twigs and branchlets. At the zenith a depth of emerald green is growing deeper....
Is there something beyond death, I wonder? Something? Anything?
No! I cannot believe that possible! I can see that corpse too well ... that corpse, in its coffin....
* * * * * * * * *
A great crowd around my grave ... almost as great as the throng in front of my house.... It is only a short walk from town ... the graveyard....
No, the ceremony is over.... The sexton is filling the grave.... I can hear the gravel as it strikes my coffin....
It seems to be all covered now.... I walked too slowly.... But I was very tired....
The earth they are throwing into the hole.... I can feel it heavier and heavier upon my chest.... Six feet deep.... I never knew it could be so very heavy!