“Hi Julie. What do you think?”
“Of what?”
“Of my outfit?” She pushed those around her in the crowded space back far enough to execute a single whirl to show off the full black effect before the space filled up again with bodies. She bumped against several cursing people who were trying to escape from the church. “Pretty cool, isn’t it? I borrowed the dress, the veil, and the eyeliner from my sister who is a Goth.”
“What are you doing dressed as a grieving mother? You barely knew the provost.”
“This is true, but Lambe suggested someone had to support him today because she has no family of her own except for him since her mother’s modelling accident, and he had to be up in the pulpit. The all-black was my idea because I’ve never been chief mourner before. My parents won’t die or anything. What do you think? Too much?”
“Way too much. What now? What are you going to do now?”
“First thing is to get out of this black. Do you know it’s starting to bring me down? All this crying is starting to depress me.”
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