A time to be born, And a time to die

The pastor wiped the sweat off his face and adjusted his collar. “Think of your father.”

Jones emptied the beer. “I’d rather not.”

“This is sacrilegious!”

“I won’t spend a penny on him.”

“You can’t just abandon him at the morgue!”

“Do to others what they would do to you.” Jones got up and the priest backed away. “The old fart would have left me for dead without checking my pulse first.”

“It’s not right…” The priest reached the door. “The good Lord will not forget…”

“If the lord is good, then he’ll understand.”

The priest grasped for air, and then he left and slammed the door.

Jones opened a beer and carried the boxes to the backyard. A hour later, he had reduced a lifetime of hate into a smouldering pile of ashes.

“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” he mumbled as he pissed on the last remains of the life that had been.

The moment of looking at the past was over and he went to the Fernandez home and knocked on the door.

“Here’s the key,” Jones said. “Take what you want then give the key to the landlord.”

Mrs. Fernandez looked at him with pity. “Dinner’s ready, if you want some.”

“No thanks. I gotta go.”

“I know…” She put her hand on his arm.

His heart skipped a beat and he could feel his back break out in sweat.

“He was a bad man. I understand why you leave.”

He relaxed and nodded.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the rest for you.”

“Thanks ma’am.”

He went to the car and turned the stereo on, Mrs Fernandez shook her head, and he grinned back at her one last time before he left for good.