"She's a journalist, Flops, and a very good on at that."
You hold yourself back from wanting to scream "I'm a what?!" at both your new found mother and aunty, trying to reserve yourself as mentally you're going over the new fact that you're apparently a reporter now. A rabbit reporter.
Your aunty backs off from the questions although doesn't seem exactly pleased with the answer completely. "Oh yeah? And how many journalists are actually working at that paper?" Flops queried Heather. "Some of those stories are so ghastly and poorly written, you'd think their ears would have flopped over as they were typing."
"Well, considering some of the stories I've heard, it's not entirely false," your mother murmurs, winking as she sips from her coffee. "Besides, we have our Connie to thank for some of the stories being in the headlines. Who knows if any of the town's issues would've been solved if it wasn't for Connie, quite honestly."
You could feel the pressure of this new job description hit you like a brick wall the more they speak about it. They made it out like you were the only qualified person who worked there that didn't actually make the printer run. ...wait, are there even printers here? Your focus on your new job works was slightly nudged out of your thoughts by a tug on your hair, accidentally by your cousin.
"Did you read today's paper?" Flops asked your mother, quieting down so that her little one couldn't hear. "...Frankie passed."
The level of silent shock on your mother's face, as she slowly placed her cup of coffee down on the counter was somewhat terrifying in a way. Just this level of unknown grief creeping into the conversation that you've watched on with the lack of knowledge about this new family you've entered. You feel some sort of sadness as your mother gets this information, clearly this has hit her hard.
"You're- You're joking," Heather says to Flops, as she turns to you, concerned. "Did you know about this?" She holds back, calming down slightly as she closes her eyes, muttering to herself, "No, no, you couldn't have. That's not in your department, you don't do obituaries..."
You just witness this shift in atmosphere. The whole room feels quieter despite the sound being on the same level. Even your little cousin slows down the braiding, unsure what to do other than the task she set out of her own accord.
"...what happened to him?" Your mother pleaded, quiet enough not to bother the children around. "...oh, please say it was just drifting away in his sleep..."
Your aunty was wiping tears away from your mother's eyes, "...they haven't released any information yet. It doesn't sound like whatever it was ...was natural. ...I'm sorry."
You tried so hard not to join your mother in tears. You had no idea who this Frankie was or what he meant to her, but clearly whatever this was hit the family hard. You couldn't help but think about that comment made about what happened to Digger's family, whoever he is. (You know you'll meet him soon enough).
"People have their theories as to what happened to him..." you aunty mentioned. "...I don't like to think about it, but..."