![]() ![]() I eyed the funeral procession thoughtfully. Mr Rikkard Ambrose waits for no man, and would demand I postpone my appointment with death till the weekend and take care of it in my free time. Bloody hell! Now the street was blocked! I was going to be late for work!Įveryone said death waits for no man. I, for my part, snatched my hat off my head and hurled it to the ground in frustration. On either side of me, everyone trying to cross the street stopped and respectfully stepped back, removing their hats in sympathy, as the bearers of the coffin appeared. Screeching to an abrupt halt, I bent over, panting. With deafening drums and brass, the black-clad marching band rounded the corner and blocked the street. Please! It couldn't happen like this! It just couldn't! I had to reach it in time, before. I raced forward, my heart pounding, my hands clenched into fists. The death knell rang out with resounding finality. ![]()
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