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It's a lazy morning much like any other. April needs to get up and make breakfast but instead she's lying in bed scrolling the news on her phone. She doesn't even like the news. Gonna get up aaaaany minute now.
April finds the plot (of Starter Villain)
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sureAnd then, in the family group chat,
hey uncle chris guess what
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the answer is: you were right, you didn't want to be here
all the people who showed up to the funeral were there to make sure uncle jake wasn't faking
one of them went for him with a knife and i had to play defense
i did not literally fistfight the guy but i came closer than i would really prefer
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anyway now i'm superstitiously watching the cremation. did you know watching cremations is very boring
Eventually, the machine turns itself off.
About fifteen minutes later, Chesterfield comes into the room. "It looks like everything went smoothly," he says. He reaches down underneath the area where the body was put, and pulls out a deep metal tray, blackened and full of ashes. "Your uncle's estate made arrangements for placing these in an urn, if you'll give me a few minutes, I can have that out for you and ready to take home."
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"Yeah, sure thing." She gets up and stretches. The folding chair was not really a three-hour kind of chair. It's fine.
He nods at her, takes the tray with him, and leaves.
As promised, he's back in a few minutes later, with an urn and vase, both wrapped in light blue tissue paper. They're both in a nondescript brown bag, large and wide, with thick and reinforced handles. "This should be everything, Ms. Turnberry," he says. "We hope your time with us was not too painful." He hands her the bag. "I can show you out, or you can leave on your own, if you'd prefer."
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"I will take the escort to the front door, I feel like nobody wants me accidentally getting lost in your death basement."
"Very fair," he says, and leads her to the elevator, which feels much emptier without a coffin in it. And then he takes her from the elevator to the door. "My condolences on your loss," he tells her, and offers her a hand to shake once more.
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"Thanks." She shakes his hand again, with much less resentment this time.
All right. Now to get this large bulky paper bag home... at least the shoes held up to the walk here and will probably also hold up to the walk back.
A hundred feet or so from April's house, on the other side of the street, there is a familiar cat, head pointed upwards, looking around. She's pacing a little. When she sees April, she meows to get her attention.