Mitch and me had our fathers' ties tucked into our pants. We stood in front of Harry's grave because we were his best friends and because they made us stand there. We were surrounded by well dressed tall strangers smiling at us with sad smiles..
The priest began to speak. He went on and on, and on and on, and I felt a great anger growing inside me.
I don't know who started it, Mitch or me, but together and without reason, we began to giggle. We had little choice but to pretend we were crying. We tried not to look at each other. Nothing helped. I couldn't breath.
When people squeezed and rubbed my shoulders in sympathy, it only made everything worse. I saw Mitch's eyes peeking through his fingers and I knew I was going to both pee in my pants and spend eternity in hell, and there was nothing I could do about any of it.