It’s cold and lonely up here sometimes so I like to make up little stories and have a little fun on this internety thing. Here’s today’s short-short-short story:

 

PLACES OTHER THAN AN URN

     The cremationist’s wife, who filled their new house with 32 plants in order to clear the air of any notion of death, tripped on the long tendril of a spider plant one night on her way to double check the front door lock. The cremationist asked a professional acquaintance to take care of her body. Three months after the funeral he divided her up among the remaining 8 plants which he swore never again to neglect. 
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