The day of a funeral

What better way to start the day of a funeral with breakfast in a cheap supermarket café?

You don’t have to answer that.

Almost a month ago, my grandfather died. Today is the funeral.

I look out the window at the grey cloud cover and spy the local red kites circling on thermals. If you weren’t accustomed to the local wildlife, you could mistake them for vultures.

I look at my phone screen and silently hammer the non-existent keys to create a record of the words that I desire to express.

But today my desires are all lacking. Everything is grey, not just the sky. My coffee is grey. My breakfast croissant is grey. Everything.

If I can get through the day then perhaps I’ll be able to start seeing in colour again tomorrow.

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