Death, grand as it may be, is sometimes the cumulation of many unimpressive incidents - in Donnie's case, what started as a simple coughing earned him a coffin. https://twitter.com/bgrueskin/status/1245871833875771395

The funeral was solemn, not the type good old Donnie would've wanted, but with the mandatory social distancing restrictions, three was definitely a crowd.
With an exemption-note from the town council, the approved number came to thirteen, counting the priest and pallbearers.

The ceremony looked like a cultist conclave - all attendees clad in black, donning face masks and gloves, maintaining a space from one another; and as if their spirits couldn't be dampened enough, a rain shower serenaded them as the priest gave a sermon about time and seasons.

- whew, my melancholy is leaking.