The Funeral

There is rain pounding on the thatched roof that could only be characteristic of a funeral. The weather matched Amoura's mood so perfectly she barely noticed it. Everything was dark and damp and cold and miserable, it seemed perfectly natural to be mourning a loss. She sat on a stiff wooden chair in the Depin's kitchen, avoiding the minute the guests would arrive. In front of her was a steaming untouched mug of tea, and the only likeness of Trustar ever taken. She was caught between the yearning and fresh hurt her heart felt looking at it, and the strange comfort of seeing his face again. She could hear her mother and Mrs. Depin conversing in the hall behind the closed door of the kitchen. She had been dreading this day for weeks now, but would be happy when it was over. As she sat and listened to the volume grow behind the closed door, her thoughts turned unwilling to her wedding day and she watched as it played before her eyes. She watched Trustar smile at her and his lips form the words and his expression change ever so slightly as the light went out of his eyes and he fell to the ground. She had been reliving that nightmare in her mind ever since it happened and wondered if there would come a day when she wouldn't think of it at all.
The door opened and her mother hesitantly peeked her head in.
"Amy, there are some people who would like to see you dear. Do you think you can come and greet them?" She was hesistant, not sure of her daughters' emotions of late, since she kept them so closely guarded to herself.
Amoura took a deep breath and gently pushed the chair back from the table. Straightening her shoulders she walked past her mother's pitying gaze into the sea of black clothing that was her friends and family, come to express their sorrow for her.

It seemed as though the whole village had turned out. Amoura was sure that everyone in the small cottage had been present at her wedding. They had all been wishing her the best less than three weeks ago. No one could have forseen these circumstances. They all regarded her carefully, some afraid to touch her, some pulling her too close. The black was everywhere and constantly reminded her that she was at a funeral. Neighbors and friends and people from the market and extended family, all were present but no one carried a distinction for Amoura. They all blended together, their tears and kind words, until she felt as though she was in a dream. Only one stood out from the crowd; Peter had been a good friend of hers since they were young, and though the wedding plans had taken her from his company for some time now, he was still the closest person to her in the room after her family. For some reason seeing him looking at her with such sadness seemed to make the whole situation crushingly real and for the first time that day her eyes became wet and she couldn't meet his gaze.
"Am, I don't even know what to say" he told her gently. He hesitated while she nodded and looked at the ground, a little ashamed of her sudden emotion, and then he carefully pulled her in to his arms and held her perfectly. She cried silent tears into his shoulder and held on to her dear friend.