My dress is black, so are my shoes. I crumple the tissue in my lap. So far, I haven’t needed it. So far, I’m keeping together.
I stare at the pew in front of me. I burn letters into it with my eyes. What would I spell?
It would start with an S——No. I promised myself I wouldn’t get emotional. I need to stay strong.
“And now,” the reverend says. He collects his notes in one swift, habitual, gather-and-tap motion. He barely makes a sound. “We will hear from the deceased’s close friends and family.” His eyes fall on mine. He nods, my cue to stand.
I do. The empty clop of my heels against wood floor echoes through the church. Behind the podium, I clear my throat. My notes tremble in my hands. “My Samsung Galaxy S4 was a good phone,” I begin.