The Writer in the Family

“Um, sure. I read that stuff. All those words, writing just like grandfather.” Cousin Kim’s voice trails off.

She eye-flirts with the handsome funeral director standing near the chapel entrance.

“Oh.” Wow… “So… you’ve been to my website? My blog?”

Strange. We haven’t spoken since sophomore year when Kim ditched our friendship for the popular kids in school… But her sudden interest in my hobby is kinda flattering.

“All my writing is there.” I add.

Her nose wrinkles like she smells something foul. “What blog?” The funeral director walks away. “Damnit.”

I stare at her, smiling.

“Yeah… You gotta check it out. Get your phone.”

As if the act is a bother, she groans and retrieves her phone from the leather bottomless pit she’s carrying, taps her sparkly claw nails on the screen, then opens a new browser.

“Still a nerd.” She mutters. Eye rolls and all. “Now where am I going?”

“Fuck you Kim dot com.”

I head to the casket.

Talking to Grandfather’s lifeless body is better than dealing with this family.

Note Drop

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