“…Happy birthday, to you,” he sang, as he carried the tray bearing the candle-covered cake.
An unused game of ‘Pin the tail on the donkey’ fluttered against the door as he passed.
The children sat, party hats on their heads, as he distributed each frosted slice to its appropriate place.
Dressing as a clown was meant to be entertaining, but these kids were each ten to twelve years old; had he made a poor choice in doing so?
While taking pictures, he silently hoped that the cemeteries wouldn’t trace the missing bodies to him, until the party was over.