The sky was an especially azure blue that day. Susan was well aware that the unusually cloudless sky was just the right subject for her painting class.
Perfect. “Here, hold this.”, she commanded Jim, her ever-loyal and patient husband. Jim obediently took the mocha/vanilla bean waffle cone from his wife’s hand as she enthusiastically took a few pictures with her cell phone.
Perfect shot! I’ll be sure to show this one to Linda, she said thinking of her tall, wiry watercolor teacher.
Perfect for my Thursday art class. Perfect.
In fact everything that day in the Hamptons was perfect: the sky, the ice cream, Jim….
“Let’s sit here just a minute”, Susan offered, spying a welcoming bench. Now the pair sat wih their cones , which were beginning to melt and drip from the warm afternoon sun.
“Look here”, said Susan, just noticing for the first time the old cemetary just behind their bench.
“Check out these old tombstones. Let’s have a look.”
For some reason, Susan was drawn to one which looked newer than the rest, very new, in fact. The earth beneath had been freshly disturbed. She read “Susan A. Barrett”, her name.
Born: her birthdate
Died: It was today’s date.