The tears I had collected were zero. Days remaining to gather tears was twenty-nine.
The fire that had consumed my body brought everyone in the village together. It did not take long for them to find my body. When they discovered my remains, they had become charred, blackened and shriveled.
Seeing my pitiful state after death, a few of the aunties from neighboring homes, who had watched me grow up, couldn't bear it. Tears welled up in their eyes.
“What a shame. She is such a good girl and now she's just gone.”
“I heard she worked as a mortician in the city. Honestly, it's no wonder something bad happened. People who deal with dead people all the time will take the dead people's bad luck.”
…
The crowd buzzed with whispers, many of them filled with disdain for the work I had chosen.
My parents clearly heard the murmurs. Their faces darkened with anger and shame.
My father spat on the ground, then turned to my mother and complained to her, “What a cursed girl, even in death she brings shame to us.”