Writing Exercise: Moving On

 

It made sense that the weather would suck on the day of Edgar Wiles’ funeral.

The mosquitoes were out in full force, humming in Trent’s ear and against his sticky exposed wrists.

The casket, a cheap wooden box without decal or design, was set next to a hole in the wet ground.

It was trying to rain but all the spitting did was add to the uncomfortable humidity and the unwelcome drops were making Mira’s mascara run until her eyes looked dark and hollow.

Trent’s gaze fell to a new engagement ring on her left hand.

The sermon faded until there was nothing but those damn mosquitoes humming their own ugly psalms to him and until this was over neither of them could move on.

Edgar and his box were lowered into the ground and the crowd dispersed, leaving the couple alone.

Mira grasped Trent’s hand until he could feel the cold metal of her ring digging into his skin like someone else’s handcuff.

Her gaze was soft, but there was an expectation in the way she looked at him that drew the bitter accusation to his lips before he could stop himself.

“You’re happy.”

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Kicking this blog off (very late mind you) with a vignette exercise from Jodi Cleghorn’s blog, ten prompts for ten sentences.  The photo is by Michael Casey on Flickr.

“Two family members  who have been estranged are coming together for the first time.”