George picked up his dry scrub brush and scrubbed hard for thirty seconds. “I’m going to make a tracing. Will you help hold the paper? I think I have it clean enough to be able to read a tracing.”
Joanne looked over at George for the first time in five minutes. “What are you doing? You are on top of that poor person’s grave. Don’t you have any consideration for the dead. Especially the one who is only a few feet below you. You are kneeling right on top of their head.”
George looked at the two holes his knees had made in the soft soil. He twisted around and glanced at the two holes his toes had made. “How do you know I’m kneeling on his head and not his feet? I don’t think they will mind too much. They may be glad to have some company for a change.” He moved to the left of the grave and held the paper over the inscription.
All people are buried facing the East.”
“Why is that?”