Nikki began to shed a tear as her finely manicured, slender fingers stroked the oversized wooden casket sprinkled with knotholes, splinters and other imperfections that housed the small body of Kamari Prescott. A young boy who seemed to love life despite its harsh realities. Kamari had been befriended by abuse far too often in his battered young life and visited by death much too early than what Nikki believed the good Lord intended. As she stood at the grave, she questioned the wisdom of God's gift of free will.
It saddened Nikki deeply that she and the gravediggers were the only ones in attendance for the Home Going Service of a little boy whose life had painfully, with no mercy been taken by his uncaring bitch of a mother. The reality of this setting renewed Nikki's rage over the entire heartless chain of events. As she stood wondering if there was more, she could have done; or should have done, she began to ponder the injustice of it all.
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