By LC Lin
As the chilling winter wind blew away the artificial flowers of the sympathy standing wreaths, my eyes were glued to the moving conveying belt. I was waiting to complete my mission here because none of my siblings could stand it.
Abruptly, it stopped. One of the two workers at the crematorium spat on the cement ground, yelling angrily at the other worker, “Ben, you push it!” Ben, pushing the coffin into the mechanized door, grunted, “Luke, next time, your turn.” The tiny wooden box, with Amy inside, was engulfed in flame. “Luke stood beside the belt, rubbing his hands, and said to me with a smile, ”Cold.”