Writing sample

December 1947

The day of the funeral. My fiance's family across from me, draped in rotten finery. They mutter useless platitudes.

"He's in a better place."

Mother used to say that everything happens for a reason. That we should accept our fate with grace.

You white-washed tombs! Your bigoted beliefs drove him away.

I will never let them see how much I miss him. And I will never accept my fate.