QueenoftheLemurs

There was a procession. There was a flag. There was a little stone with a kind engraving on it. There was a photograph of him, smiling slightly at the camera, adjusting his hat on his head. There was soft, solemn music, a choir of brass instruments trumpeting in a celebration of his life. There were two men standing together, away from the crowed. One had long hair, was tall and kind of gangly. He was crying, his tears making him look like nothing more than a child. He wiped furiously at his eyes as he squinted at the casket, with its multitude of badges and little coloured flags, the blue and grey badge. The other man was older, scruffy be