I sat on one of the hard wooden pews in the church, staring blankly at a stained glass window

I sat on one of the hard wooden pews in the church, staring blankly at a stained glass window. It showed your basic picture of Jesus hanging from the cross, crown of thorns around his head. You know, the general stuff you get in churches. The vivid colours: yellow and green, blue and red, pink and purple danced before me, hitting the floor like disco lights as the sun relentlessly gleamed through the glass. Stained glass windows always seem so cheerful, it almost seems inappropriate to have them in churches. But then again, maybe you just needed something to lift the solemn atmosphere. God knows I did right about then.

It seemed a cruel twist of irony that the sun was shining on a funeral day. It was baking hot, birds were singing. It's the sort of thing that has me "vomiting rainbows" as Dr Cox likes to put it. The sort of thing that makes life seem just that little bit less crappy. I was sweltering. Looking around, so was everyone else. The black mourning outfit wasn't helping, either.

It's odd, the things you think of at a time like this.

The vicar stood up, and began to speak.

"We are gathered here today to remember in fondness the life of…"

It was the same vicar who had spoken at Laverne's funeral. I couldn't stand to be a vicar. The man who stood up front of the church now would probably speak at a few more funerals today, maybe a few weddings, maybe even a few baptisms. Life, love and death all under one huge roof. I remembered that during his speech at Laverne's funeral I had fantasised about my own. Here, now, I wouldn't even think about thinking of doing that.

Someone was quietly sobbing next to me. I wanted to cry, I honestly did. I wanted to show all these people that I could honour the deceased person (I couldn't bring myself to think of a name just yet) in a traditional way, like they were expecting me to. Who were these people to judge me? Most of them didn't even care about the person lying in the oak coffin a few metres in front of them. Not like I did.

A felt a few tears trickle down my cheeks.

Suddenly, the person next to me (I wasn't sure who it was) tugged at my arm, and I realised that I was meant to be speaking. I hastily stood up and opened my mouth. But no words came out. There was an uncomfortable silence, the kind that suffocates and strangles you. Someone coughed. No wonder, the dust in this church could really get in your throat…I closed my mouth, shook my head and sat back down. People nodded sympathetically.

Then the service was over, and the crowd started filing out of the hall. I spotted Kelso in amongst the crowd, and smiled. So he did have a heart, even if he just came out of respect. It was still good to see him. It still made the large empty black space inside me shrink just a tiny bit. I knew it would take time for the black space to shrink down to nothingness. A very long time.

I went up to the coffin, and stood over it, looking down at the body. I reached into my black jacket pocket and pulled something out. I turned it over in my hands, looking at it, feeling every side and every angle.

"I found it, man" I said.

Then I laid the saltine down beside Christopher Turk's hand, and followed the mass out of the church.