No need to write anyone.
Harvey Bozarth J. of Chatsworth, a pine dweller all his life, was resting in a small graveyard just outside of town.
He lay under the pines this one last time in an afternoon sun that was turning the freshly overturned earth a parched tan color.
Harvey Bozarth Jr. was dead. His body was encased in a rough-hewn knotty pine box. The cemetery was empty and there were no flowers, r pomp or circumstance.
Then again, there never had been.
I find it interesting that he was just left there. Today, someone would call the cops or take the body and drive away with it. I wonder if he spent the night or the burial was later that day?