The grave is a two-foot square hole in the ground; down in there, a black metal case with a lid. We look. I bounce the box once. At no signal I can see, the digger kneels, seems to dive into the hole, tips off the case-lid. Two sticks of gum slip out of his shirt, smack on the bottom of the vault. He snatches them back. I say, "Maybe you should leave one there..." the digger's face, when he gets up straight, is red as any drunk's.
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