The Eulogy Of Darien Meek
by Niccolo Skill
“Thank you for coming,” the usher said and held the door for the latest guest. Tom nodded and mouthed a ‘thank you’ but didn’t feel it in him to say the actual words. A time and place for everything, after all.
Twin dark wood doors opened up to a high-ceiling-ed main room. The windows were stained half the colors of the rainbow. The room was awash in vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows. A splash of green dotted the refreshment table and the faintest lines of blue hung over the altar. A faint musky smell, not quite strong enough to be offensive, wafted out the door.
Clusters of relatives milled about, exchanging the usual family gossip. Tom tucked himself into the corner by the restrooms.