He shoved his hands deep into the pockets, trying to pull the material further around him to help ward off the ice wind chill as he approached the corner store.
"Hmmm," the old woman said a she rang up the price of the plastic bottle and the four cans that were cheaper than a second bottle. "Anything else?" she snapped, not bothering to hide her disapproving tone.
Gerard's cheeks burned with embarrassment, making him lift a newspaper from the rack in front of the counter, "Uh, yeah… this too."
He paid and left as fast as he could and scampered back to the safety of his room. Without even bothering to take off his jacket or put the bottle under the sink, he dumped the bag on the table. He sat down, wiping his hands along his grimy jeans, trying to stop the shakes and catch his breath so he could open the bottle.
Half a bottle later, he had calmed down enough to put his feet up on the table, sit back and settle himself in for the day. He caught sight of the paper he leaned forward , snagged the corner and pulled it toward him . May as well he thought as he flipped through the rather dry, boring paper with nothing much catching his interest until he came to the obituaries.
Aha! Now we're talking. Let's see the dearly departed and the not so sadly missed. What euphemisms have the relatives came up with this round then? Flamboyant character? Hmm… camp as hell ,loud, embarrassing uncle type then? he sniggered to himself.
Then, his gut wrenched, his heart stopped and his veins turned to ice as he read …recently departed Donna Way of New Jersey; beloved wife ,mother, and grandmother. Funeral to be held...
He froze.
He quickly crushed the paper in his hands,a physical denial of what he had read. Then, after a moment, he stood and smoothed out the page on the rickety table.
He frantically read it over and over. There has to be a mistake. It's wrong. It must be someone else! He let out an unearthly shriek. His legs gave out underneath him, sending him to the floor as reality came crashing in around him.