The funeral home’s voicemail was already full. Neighbors, old veterans Henry played poker with, the librarian he’d driven to chemo. Margaret’s daughter, Sarah, had flown in from Seattle and now sat curled on the threadbare sofa, knitting nothing in particular.
She added: He died at home, drinking bad coffee and telling a joke about a priest and a duck. declue funeral home obits
Here’s a short story inspired by the phrase "Declue Funeral Home Obits." The funeral home’s voicemail was already full
