His look of alarm was hardly fair: if anyone had a right to be in the cemetery, surely the dead had priority, and second the living? He supposed the fellow was here for a reason, but Barnaby’s priority was, as usual, his own, so he didn’t inquire.
Instead he floated up a few inches further above the grass to match the man’s height. “Live on in your blessings, your destiny’s been won,” Barnaby lamented at him, woefully paraphrasing Virgil for dramatic effect, “– but my ordeals go on and on.”
In his defence, that was mostly true. But he added, conversationally, “I am looking for a rhyme.”
Instead he floated up a few inches further above the grass to match the man’s height. “Live on in your blessings, your destiny’s been won,” Barnaby lamented at him, woefully paraphrasing Virgil for dramatic effect, “– but my ordeals go on and on.”
In his defence, that was mostly true. But he added, conversationally, “I am looking for a rhyme.”
