I stand up and step out into the aisle. The pew creaks again and I can feel everyone watching me, probably confused and curious.
“Stanley was a good guy,” I say quietly, motioning toward the coffin. I almost wince at my own words, but I don’t know what else to say.
I’m halfway down the aisle, moving toward Sarah, who looks horrified, when I hear the padding of feet behind me.
“Excuse me,” Maureen says, rushing past, not turning to me. She is out the door and into the sunlight by the time I reach Sarah. When I do, she shakes her head.
“‘Stanley was a good guy’?” Sarah repeats, her right eyebrow raised. “Were youtryingto look insane and unbalanced?”
I laugh and loop my arm through hers, my tense muscles all relaxed, leaving me almost euphoric. I flinch at a sudden burn on my shoulder, but it fades almost instantly.
“Let’s go grab something to eat,” I say, not looking back. “I’m starving.”
