09. Pact

The cemetery has almost no people.

Apart from a few distant relatives, such as practically unknown cousins, one or another colleague and close friend, and, of course, the officiant himself, who was responsible for the funeral and burial of the poor couple.

Wearing a black overcoat, as well as thick, fuzzy tights of the same color and matching boots, Shandra walked arm in arm with Sam, who wore the same old white skin, thinning beard and unsettling eyes. No one dared to talk to him or ask where he knew the girl from.

It was a cold autumn Sunday, but in the girl's heart, it was winter. After crying non-stop for the past two days, she had chosen to use tranquilizers on the day of the funeral. She didn't want to make a scene in front of anyone.

Shandra looks at the company next to her. Sam stares at her, the orange blotches that make up his irises are as serious as ever, but without that familiar teasing touch.

It was the girl's idea to call him to the funeral. She just said she would fee