8
I took the urn from Kevin, and “accidentally”
dropped it.
It shattered, spilling white powder everywhere. Everyone froze.
I grabbed a handful of the powder and threw it in Kevin’s face.
“Why are you using flour to pretend it’s my husband’s ashes?”
“Are you planning to steal my husband’s body
and sell his organs?”
Kevin didn’t expect me to do that.
His face turned white, and he stammered,
speechless.
I started yelling so everyone could hear.
“Everyone, this man is Mark’s assistant.
My husband died in a car crash, and he
wouldn’t let me see the body!”
“I wanted to take my husband to the
crematorium myself, but he blocked me every
step of the way.
What is he hiding?”
“He distracted me with a phone call and
came back to tell me my husband was
cremated.”
“He was gone for ten minutes. How can
someone become ashes in ten minutes?”
“He took the call and walked out.
He gave me the ash, and there wasn’t a body
in the urn!
“What kind of assistant does that?
He’s probably an organ trafficker trying to
make a buck.”
Kevin was freaking out.
He was speechless.
I kept shouting, and people started gathering
around.
