Turd by Ilan Herman 

Maybe it was the spinach salad mixing with her four daily apples, or maybe the Grande whole milk cappuccino in tandem with large portions of raisins and strawberries, but Julia’s morning bowel movement, most always generous and smooth, was more generous, and smoother, than usual. It lasted only four or five seconds but she felt considerably lighter after completion.
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Although he didn't like its current name, Teddy had no idea what to call the Sullivan Brothers’ Funeral Parlor instead. He felt the name inadequate as it currently stood. It was called a funeral parlor, though no one ever talked much there, except the staff who ran it. He felt it was a better name than “funeral home,” like the last one he had worked, because no one lived there, not even the owner. The same was true of his current place of work. The Sullivan brothers lived elsewhere with their families; Frank ran the business side and Connor oversaw the preparation and display of the bodies for their loved ones. It was Conner that Teddy worked under.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Why was that man outside?”

“What man?”

“You know, that man who was outside and he had his hat out like this and kept shaking it.”

Placate now or face the music