It’s not the funeral yet, but we’re going for a drive out to the cemetery to see where it’s all at. I’ve never been particularly enamoured with cemeteries, or particularly disenchanted.
The people aren’t there. Their molecules are spreading out and mixing with ours, imbuing us with little pieces of their essence – whatever wasn’t already there through our time with them and the memories we have.
Death is a shame, but a necessary one. Unchecked growth can choke even the heartiest and most resilient of landscapes.
Ask every company grown too far, too fast. Ask every empire. Ask anyone who thought they had it all and it still wasn’t enough.
A little entropy and the acceptance of some personal limitations can go a long way.
Target: 800 words
Written: 675 words, novella: The Mungk