Ennis finished his coffee, rinsed his cup in the river. The water rushed in, lathered to a delicate foam, disappeared. He shook it dry.
He retrieved the crematory container from the truck. Cheap cardboard, Jack’s name in pencil, smudged, was this the best Lureen could do? Mattie Twist deserved better, so did Jack.
It felt strange, holding in his arms, in a cardboard box, all that remained of the man that meant more to him than anyone else in his life.
Ennis grew impatient. “Kid, you ready?” No answer. “You ready yet?” He repeated. “Get a movin. Times a wastin.”
100 words