The funeral was awfully bleak. Steve would have wanted it so much brighter, so much… happier. He wouldn’t want people crying so much at his funeral, he was a happy, jolly, and perky guy. He wouldn’t want his funeral any different, but there I was.

I headed for the bathroom. All this black and death wasn’t helping my stomach. I heard crying in the stall, as I walked in, and I assumed it was his brother, Matthew. He wouldn’t want anyone seeing him cry, even at his brother’s funeral. Some people never change.

It happened kind of suddenly, Steve’s suicide. I don’t know why he did it, I mean he had his beautiful fiancé, and his great life. I don’t know why he’d give it up for a one way trip to Heaven. I counted three stalls down, like Steve and I used to do with everything. Count three down and buy it, eat it, use it.

Inside all the stalls hung paintings, but mine was crooked. I had to fix it, but when I did, a card fell out. It read:

I’m not dead, Ant. Meet me tonight at Guido’s Pizzeria. Tell no one.