“I have here something belonging to you, sir.” The woman thrust out the basket. She pulled aside the rags and the Undertaker spotted a face.” EVERY READER MATTERS. CHOOSE WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN WITH THE FACE (poll inside).
Subconsciously, he tried to prolong her stay with new activities. He cooked her tea, even offered her some fresh porridge. He engaged with her in smalltalk. In bed, at the table, during a walk through the ghastly graveyard that he even perceived as romantic.
“No excavation today,” the Undertaker announced briefly. “You may leave.”
“What…? Why…?” the woman was unable to hide her annoyed surprise.
“Like I said, leave,” the grave digger insisted. “Piss off.”
“Did you… throw him back?” the woman asked with mild surprise when she spotted the naked body of her late husband with an open skull.
“Should I have thrown him over the city wall?” His voice bore annoyance. “Or served him for dinner?”
“Open his head,” the woman said in a strangely daring and commanding tone. He obeyed. He took his sharpest kitchen knife and skinned the skull. Then he cracked it open with one single blow.