The rain had driven all of the other mourners away. It was coming in sheets now. I hadn’t embraced the rain but I hadn’t scurried for shelter either. I just stood there, numbly letting it trickle through my hair and drip off my nose. It couldn’t feel it weaving rivers down my back anymore because it had soaked through my clothes, leaving them sodden against my skin.

Through blurry eyes I stared at the casket. Just minutes before it had been covered with brilliant flowers but now what wasn’t washed away was plastered to the shiny wood like paper mache.

Suddenly I was aware that I was being watched. I waited for someone to shout at me “What the hell are you doing?” The sound of the rain beat in my ear drums but the words were never uttered. I looked up to see who else would be allowing Mother Nature to assault them.

My eyes landed first on a dainty pair of black pumps. They were clean and obviously well polished, even before the rain. The pumps sat below a neat hemline of a long black peat coat. Thin, blue hands grasped the curve of a large black umbrella. The face that peeked from beneath the curtain of rain dripping off the umbrella was ghostly white, with wide hollow eyes.

If I gasped the sound was lost in my throat. I felt the hair rise up on the back of my neck. My feet felt as if they had sprouted roots and dug deep into the ground. I was a part of the landscape now, unable to run away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a flash of blue. A butterfly. It was gently flapping its wings as if unaffected by the rain that should have been beating against its’ delicate body like artillery. I watched it transfixed as it landed on the unearthly hue of the creature’s hand. Without acknowledging that she had even noticed the butterfly, she slowly turned on her heel and started walking away from me.

The roots in my feet shriveled out of the earth and a knot formed in my stomach. Something tugged at me. Without reflection or consideration I followed.