with a desire for it to be over, not to have to be there and experience it all.
Raymond and I were silent. The room was much nicer inside than the exterior had suggested, with wooden beams and a high vaulted ceiling.
The entire side wall to the left of where we were seated was glass,
and we could see the rolling lawns and more of those huge, primeval trees in the background.
I was glad nature should make her presence felt in the room in some way, I thought; living nature, not cut flowers.
The sun was quite bright now, and the trees cast short shadows, although autumn was creeping up through a shimmer of wind in the leaves.
I turned around and saw that the room was full, perhaps a hundred people, maybe more.
The buzzing hum threatened to drown out the dull recorded organ music. Something shifted in the air and silence fell.
Both of his sons and four other men whose faces I recognized from the party carried Sammy’s coffin down the aisle
and placed it gently on a sort of raised platform with a roller belt, at the end of which was a set of red velvet curtains.
I tried to remember what the platform reminded me of, and it came to me: the supermarket checkout in Tesco,
where you place your items and they move toward the cashier.
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