Mary turned the funeral invitation over in her hands, running her thumb over the black sealing wax, with its stamp of a skull and crossbones. She closed her eyes. Mary didn’t know the widow very well. She was a Hodges cousin from her mother’s family. I suppose that’s close enough for an invitation to a funeral call.
“I don’t want to go,” she mused aloud. “Every time George went to sea, I worried the ship would sink, or there would be an accident, or he’d catch a fever. And now I worry for my sons.”
Mary read the invitation a final time before shoving it in her pocket.
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