They threw flowers and shit onto his casket as the dirt was piled on.He remembers walking back and sitting on the bank by the creek and looking at the...crushed mess of charred cattails where the car had tumbled and smashed and burned.He went back to Steve's grave that evening. Waited while the last pair of kids stood by it and then at last got in their car and drove off. Flowers, white and yellow and red, covered the grave, piled waist high against the stone. They covered the ground, overflowing. I was still in school, in my final year, and about to turn eighteen years old, when my mom decided to visit her sister for a couple of weeks. With her away, I was finally being roped into one of the infamous fishing excursions by Drake and my dad. It was early autumn, and with a long weekend upon us and the Monday being a public holiday, my dad insisted that I accompany them. The thought of sleeping in a tent and using public ablutions for three days, was more than I could bear.When we arrive. More

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