TITLE: Shades of Adrian Gray
This is how the story ends.
A room with a view: three walls coated with tacky wallpaper and a fourth with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bay. Hardwood floors that clatter against heels, crafting echoes that bounce amongst the rafters. The hum of fans keeping the air circulating. Brisk and chill and making everyone shiver.
Not that I think anyone minds. Helps keep the corpse from smelling.
It ends with an audience. Fifty guests stuffed into crisply pressed suits and a room so cramped even sardines would dial up their union reps. Uncomfortably shifting to get warmer. Noses sniffling into Kleenex. Chairs creaking louder than their joints, and I swear I'm the only non-family member there who's not also a member of the Geriatrics Society. I thought Adrian had more friends, but apparently their contracts all came with a 'til death' clause.
It ends without anybody noticing. Sure, all eyes are on the mahogany coffin. Only the best for the Grays' little prince. Closed casket though. Even their money couldn't fix the wreck the accident made of his face. The priest drones on about some dead kid who sounds like a candidate for sainthood. Doesn't sound like Adrian to me.
It's a far cry from happily ever after. Not that I figured a house in the suburbs was ever in the cards. Two closeted teenagers do not the epic romance of our time make, even without a drunk driver taking out one of the protagonists early into Act One.