I Ain’t Never Scared?

Went out to run some errands today. I had the pleasure of walking through the city cemetery; a shortcut of sorts. While on my stroll through this register of last breaths, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. My first thought was “Stress really can kill you.” Then, looking at my surroundings, I couldn’t help but muse over the fact that if ever there was a perfect place to keel over, this would be it.

One would think that the irony would end here, but no, my experiences are never that simple. As I neared the exit/entrance of the cemetery, a grave-digger paused in his duty, turned towards me and said, “Hello miss.”
I replied, “Hello. Good morning.”
“Yes. It is a good morning and good morning to you too,” he added, all too cheerily.

I walked on thinking that the exchange had ended, until I heard him clear his throat. Naturally assuming that he meant to catch my attention, I turned around. As I looked back towards him, he asked, “Are you ok?” Tilting his head, his Ray-bans masking any proof of the hint of hopefulness I had heard in his voice, and sharply sinking his shovel into the side of the freshly dug grave, he waited, it seemed, with bated breath, for my response. My first instinct, as most people who know me would expect, was to laugh. But the thought chilled me, as if, by indulging in this urge to find the funny side of this situation, I might, indeed, have my last laugh. Instead, I gulped, and replied, “I am very well, thank you,” in a voice way to high to have been my own. Needless to say I made a brisk exit out of the cemetery.


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