Quickly popping one of the small round pills in his mouth, Stephen swallows it dry. Stepping back, he glances down the hall to see that the candle has now burned out as the last puff of smoke flows upward and dissipates into the air.
The group of visitors tonight brought trays and bowls of food as is the usual protocol with most funerals. They did a good job of wrapping and storing the leftovers in the kitchen but several empty glasses and napkins are still sitting on the tables and mantel of the fireplace of the sitting area.
Finally moving from the spot in the room where his great-aunt left him, Stephen gathers the items and takes them to the kitchen. There is an intense quietness in the house, stillness, a surreal feeling of emptiness and it chills the damp air around him.
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