Some things unravel quickly, a tug on an errant thread and the sleeve is separated from the shirt. Others, like the life of Bartholomew Wiggins, the unravelling took much longer, with a requisite number of threads and much tugging off screen, unnoticed and overlooked. Like the day when the newspaper didn’t get delivered. Bartholomew assumed a neighbor had taken it, and so didn’t call in to the publisher to get it replaced. That was the day when her obituary had run, which, on account of no paper that day, Bartholomew missed, along with the notice of when the services were to be held, and so while it is quite understandable that he didn’t attend a funeral which he didn’t know about, all those in attendance noticed and counted it against him. A single thread, a single tug, and much more to unravel.