A chill ran through the room, as if an unseen breeze had swept over the mourners. The air seemed to thicken with an unspoken tension, and every eye turned toward the coffin. The girl’s words hung heavily in the air, echoing in the minds of everyone present. Whispers and murmurs rippled through the crowd, disbelief battling with a growing sense of dread.
The priest, standing at the head of the coffin, glanced nervously at the grieving widow, unsure of how to proceed. Her face was a mask of confusion and fear, her eyes locked onto her daughter, who was now staring intently at her father’s lifeless form. The little girl, oblivious to the chaos she had stirred, continued to insist that her father was merely sleeping, her small hands clutching the edge of the coffin tighter.
