In a little box

As we were hurtling along the countryside in the windowed box that is
my third home, two ladies were chatting about a funeral they attended
last week. They mustn't have been very close to the deceased, because
the discussion seemed to revolve around who was there and what they
were doing these days, rather than the dead person.
The conversation moved on to the funereal wishes of their nearest and
dearest. It turns out that everyone wants to be buried. "Not me. I
want to be cremated," said one.
"Why?"
"I don't want to be in a little box. I'm claustrophobic".