* * * *
Sander returned to the Caddy with a shovel and two Hefty lawn bags. He popped the trunk open and stared down at a Lewis who was no longer ourLewis. Our lover and friend morphed into a cadaver: stiff, yellow, and a bloody mess.
Sander said, “You slip a bag over his legs, and I’ll do his torso.”
“Where are we taking him?”
He pointed over his right shoulder. “Beyond the woods is the meadow I was talking about.”
* * * *
Sander and I had plenty of experience burying bodies. We dug a grave for an hour under a maple tree, rolled Lewis inside the pit, covered him over, and knelt next to the grave.
Sander said, “Give him a moment of silence. We both respect him enough to provide him with that.”
I sobbed.
Sander didn’t.
Summertime clouds partially covered the sun and darkened the meadow. Sander predicted rain, but I disagreed with him.