Profile
Bringing the kerchief to her flush cheek, she wipes away the streams of black tears, weeping in time with the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the black canopy of umbrellas above, her metronome.
The attending mourners are in pain, but for a brief moment even the closest of kin to the deceased are distracted by the woman.
"Honey...Do you know that woman?" A politely bewildered man leans into his wife's side, nearly poking the hat of the man beside her with his umbrella.
"Not NOW Peter," the woman says through hushed gulps of air and tears.
He continues listening, and sneaking glances at the sing-song elegy of the mysterious attendee, her cries and throes of anguish out-weighing those around her.
- Miss was born on the cusp of the great event.
- Death is her hobby.
- Funerals are her hobby.
- Mourning is her hobby.
Comments