What was once my friend lies in a remarkably heavy pine box at the head of the room. Friends and family file past, shuffling and snuffling as they take one last look. I'm trapped in the centre of the room, in this interminable array of chairs and mourners. Escape is not an option, and every second that ticks by my form slips more and more out of my limited control. I try to focus on my breathing. Don't betray your emotions.
Just be patient. You can do this. They don't need to know how this is affecting you. Just breathe.
The person to my right puts their hand on my shoulder. Their eyebrows lift in a sympathetic arch, and they nod their head. An unspoken affirmation of an emotion I'm not even feeling. They think they get it, but they don't. They can't. They didn't know him like I did. I bite my lips and try to return the gesture. It doesn't work out quite right.
Oh god, it's in my stomach. I can feel it. I'm not going to be able to control it.
I glance at the exit. Even now, after all this time, I'd still have to plow through three grandmothers and a cousin to make my escape. I'm not sure if that would be better or worse. Perhaps I can make a distraction, and use that to...
Too late.
It erupts out of me, a torrent of emotion that explodes in the quiet room like a grenade. A deep, roaring belly laugh forces my eyes shut and I almost pass out in my chair as the air is forced out of me by the damned thing.
It goes on forever, or what seems like forever. I already know what I'll see when I open my eyes. When it finally subsides, I reveal the world I expected. A room full of shocked faces, all staring at me, horrified.
"It's just... You had to know him..." I mutter, wiping joyful tears from my eyes between convulsive giggle fits. "You know what he told me last week?"
Not a single person moves a muscle in response.
"Don't invest in funerals man... it's a dying industry."
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