The ‘she tugged at the hem of her expensive dress as she sat at a traffic light’ prompt
She tugged at the hem of the expensive dress as she sat at the traffic light, wishing she was at home in her soft clothes, watching TV at home, instead of driving to the funeral.
She didn’t agree with the come-as-you-are trend of people paying their last respects wearing any old thing. It was understandable that some came directly to the funeral home in their daily uniforms — mechanics in blue collars, nurses in scrubs, harried parents in T-shirts and jeans. She wasn’t so snobbish that she looked down on those who had no occasion to dress up anymore and simply didn’t own anything more formal than black jeans. It just wasn’t the way she dressed. For her, showing respect to a grieving family meant dressing like they were likely to be dressed. If they had to stand there for hours, greeting mourners, blowing their noses and wiping their tears away while buttoned into uncomfortable coats and ties, or wearing nylons and heels, the least she could do was follow suit.
Even at that, her dress was probably less than appropriate. Sleeveless and bright turquoise, it was more suited for a wedding or other happy occasion. She liked to think he would have approved anyway. Perhaps he would peer out from his coffin, likely laid to rest in a business suit he probably hadn’t worn since the last funeral he attended, and say from the beyond, “phew, a bright spot in the room.”
