Georgina Gee • Essential

She looked down at the mahogany casket—her mother’s final resting place—and then at the row of aunts sitting in the front pew. They were dabbing their eyes with lace handkerchiefs, whispering about "what a saint" her mother had been and how they had "always been there" for her.

A gasp rippled through the pews. Her oldest aunt, Sarah, looked up, eyes wide with indignation. "Georgina, this isn't the time—" georgina gee

She adjusted the microphone. The feedback shrieked, slicing through the manufactured grief. She looked down at the mahogany casket—her mother’s