Theo shook his head.
“I thought he wanted me to get him food. That’s usually what he wanted.”
A small laugh passed through the room.
“Then he said, ‘I want you to speak at my funeral.’”
The room went silent.
Daniel’s hand slipped from mine.
Theo looked down at the microphone.
“I told him to shut up.”
He laughed, but tears were already gathering in his eyes.
“I actually got angry. I told him he was going to get better, and he needed to stop talking like that.”
He wiped his face.
“Then he said, ‘Fine. If you won’t speak at my funeral, you have to wear a dress to mine.’”
Someone in the back let out a surprised laugh.
Theo looked down at the red fabric.
“I told him absolutely not. I said I’d rather wear a clown costume.”
He paused.
“Then he said, ‘Red. It has to be red.’”
