Chuck has declared we write a story in 100 words:
I walk down the long aisle. My shoes make a funny sound on the carpet. All eyes are focused on me. I walk slowly – everyone here knows I don’t want this walk to end. No one will hurry me or speak ill of my actions today. They don’t know how to act. Hell, I don’t know how to act. I can see it – dark, glossy walnut – reflecting the light. It’s almost blinding. I reach out and touch the smooth wood. The room grows silent as I sniffle before saying aloud what I’ve felt for a while: “I miss you daddy.”
Article 94 
May 25th, 2014 at 18:56
For the first 50 words I had the idea that the protagonist was a death-row inmate walking to the electric chair. My father died a couple of years ago; I thought you captured that feeling, the atmosphere, well.
June 5th, 2014 at 16:35
I’ve only attended funerals when I was very young. I don’t remember them, but I suspect that’s his I may have felt.