In an instant, Addison knew what had happened, and slumping against the wall, she closed her eyes and hung her head. “Shit.”

***

She stood outside, halfway between the house and the hearse, mindless that the thick fog had dampened her hair and clothes. The door opened behind her, but Addison didn’t turn around. She remained a statue while four men dressed in black carried out another clothed in pajamas of blue and white, now hidden under a sheet rapidly becoming speckled with rain.

They were respectful as their profession dictated. The gurney’s wheels rattled across the slate for only a second before it went quiet as wheels were lifted so those mourning would not forever be haunted by the sound.

Was she mourning, too? She hardly knew the man, yet suddenly she felt as if a black hole had appeared inside of her, devouring her every thought and instinct. She couldn’t sense the cold or feel the wetness of the fog as it wrapped its whiteness around her, and it wasn’t until Addison heard the hearse door close when she finally lifted her eyes.

A man barely five feet tall was walking toward her. He, too, didn’t seem to care about the weather. His black, round-rimmed glasses were spotted with mist and his bald head glistened from the moisture in the air, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Tonight wasn’t about being inconvenienced or uncomfortable. Tonight was about loss. It was about understanding those who were left behind with holes in their hearts and muddled thoughts twisted by pain.

He stopped a few feet from where Addison stood. “We’ll be leaving now,” he said in a quiet and dignified tone. “We can discuss arrangements tomorrow or...or whenever you’re ready.” Receiving an infinitesimal nod in response, the man did the same and then headed back to the hearse. He knew at times like these, solitude often brought the most peace.

Addison watched as the man walked away, his shoulders hunched against the chill and the drizzle, but just as he began to open the car door, a thought crossed her mind. “Wait,” she called out. “Please wait.”

In no time flat, he was once again standing in front of Addison. “Yes, madam.”

Addison frowned. “I’ve...I’ve forgotten your name.”

“McPherson, madam. Nigel McPherson,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a card. Although he had already given her one an hour earlier, he placed another in her hand. “My card.”

Addison gave the card a half-glance before slipping it into her pocket. “It...it goes without saying, you’re to spare no expense.”

“Of course, madam.”

Nigel paused, and believing the conversation had ended, he began to walk away.

“McPherson.”

“Yes, madam,” Nigel said, turning around.