The hearse stopped at the cemetery surrounded by two-story houses. I parked on the opposite side.
The mourners swayed around the coffin and their loss, and the rabbi began. I pressed an ear between the wrought iron bars, but all I could hear was her melancholy drone. When one of his kids looked in my direction, I pulled my scarf over my head and left.
I read the obituary between the stove and the sink. Ought to cry sometime, I figured. The words ‘faithful husband’ made me laugh.
I watched the fire escape for a while, snowflakes drifting through my reflection.