I sat in back of the ebony car, the smooth silk of the black dress against my legs.
A white gloved hand, blackened from curled fists, handed me a mint, round and smooth.
I could smell the fresh bite of peppermint.
The only vibrant smell against the thick, clotting perfume of my aunt.

The black door opened, and the man with white gloved gestured for me to leave.
I clung to my older cousin as we walked behind our parents, she too wearing black.
The big white building ahead didn't look like it fit in with the weather.
Small drops of rain plopped down on my curls, making them sway.

A muggy smell of damp ground surrounded us in the fog.
The building smelled of many candles and scents mixing.
Cold hands moved us towards the front.
The air was still thick and cold.

I rocked back and forth on my feet, my uncomfortable shoes making blisters on my ankles.
A dingy smell lit up my senses. The smell of old, gray, death.
Black shoes, black dresses, black shirts. It was a sea of darkness, a sea of night.
Bella. A large hand pulled my little feet along. Curly hair clouded my sight.

The sound of bells ringing. Feet shuffled into rows.
In the blink of an eye there was that ebony car again, more darkness.
The sweet smell of calla lilies filled my nose.
Words sounded like music, sweet, soft, and swaying to a piano.

Little hands clutching one another.
Icy air swirling around the darkness, through the rows of night.
Black, a stark contrast against the white lily in my hands.
Soft, delicate, sweet, like always.