For this week, we asked you to write a fiction or creative non-fiction piece in which an epitaph features prominently–in 500 words or less.
Jean had cut her hair and changed the color. A deep shade of red, the color she'd been born with. No makeup, she didn't need it. Her black jeans had been washed until soft before she slid into them. The hunter green polo shirt was a gift to herself, to complement her hair.
She had one more stop to make before she left town. The contents of the apartment had been donated or trashed. The bank account closed and the small balance used to pay for cleaning the apartment.
She was surprised to see the two old women at the grave site. The interment was last week. She hung back as they stood chatting. They didn't see her, though it wouldn't matter.
They wouldn't know who she was. When they left, she approached the grave. Jean had paid for the plain headstone years ago. She just needed to check the dates and name for accuracy.
Carla Jean Sullivan
April 3, 1928 - December 11, 2011
Just as she had ordered. But beneath the dates was an addition.
A True and Dear Friend
We Will Miss You
That was why Maryanne and Lainie had been here. Jean's eyes filled with tears. "I will miss you, too." she whispered as she walked away from another empty grave.
