WE WERE THE ONLY ONES WHO SMILED WHEN THE HEARSE SLIPPED ON BLACK ICE AND PASSED THE CEMETERY ENTRANCE BY AT LEAST A CAR-LENGTH. In our car, a few back, we saw the whole thing. An old woman in the car behind had this big coat, a peacock’s feather in her hat, and the more she scowled, the more the feather sagged, like she was one big, wet ostrich.
The hearse’s brake lights went on, as it backed up, but it backed up too far and hit the car behind. It was better if you imagined Chopin’s Funeral March playing during the whole thing.