"You buried him with the keys?" Susan asked, stunned.
"It was his dying wish," Frank said. "He started the store, and it seemed right to bury him with the keys in his pocket." She just stared at him, her tear-stained face hardened into something cold rage. After a moment, she excused herself and stomped out of the room.
"You have the spares, right?" Naomi asked. Frank grinned sheepishly at her. "Jesus Christ, Frank."
Susan returned, a phone in one hand and a shovel in the other.
"We're reopening on Monday. You can either call a locksmith, or get digging."
YOU ARE READING
Everyday DrabblesShort Story
A drabble is a very short story one hundred words long. No more, no less. They are designed for maximum impact in the least amount of space. For 2019, I'll be posting a drabble every day.