It was hard to drag herself there. Sighing, she got in the car. At least she had a ride.
Dee hated funerals. Sure, no one really likes them, but for Dee, they're especially hard. Having lost most of her family to either illness, old age, or alcoholism, she'd had more than her share of them in her thirty-odd years.
“I hate funerals. I hate phony people. And I hate having to go to a funeral and face phony people!” She told her best friend Andrea.
“I know that. That's why it meant so much that you came.”
“I wouldn't miss burying that bastard.”
This is Saturday Centus, and once again I'm trying to contain my verbosity to 100 words past the prompt. If you'd like more info, please visit Ms. Jenny Matlock at “off on my tangent”