But then, a hearse comes out of nowhere. No matter what, when a hearse passes in front of you, you stop and pay your respects. Someone lies inside, someone that had dreams, someone that wanted to leave some minuscule mark before disappearing forever into the void. Hundreds of people follow, most of them out of obligation, because of social norms, some of them out of grief, but he doesn't mind. He doesn't know. He is no more.
Completely forgot that I was in a hurry to get to shelter, forgot about the sun, and lit another cigarette. Started starring into the hearse. For some unexplained reason, all windows were transparent and there was no casket inside. The man was just thrown in the back, dressed in a cheap suit, and a look of relief on his face. And all I could think was - damn, he probably never looked better in a suit.
* * *
The hotness just won't go away. I find myself lying on the bed. The window just above it is wide open. Maybe the sight of the clouds dancing above me in the sky is what lets me breathe. Finally.
That cloud looks an awful lot like a hearse I remember from one hot summer day. Maybe it was yesterday, maybe a hundred years ago, who knows?!
The crackling of the roof above me tells me that it's very, very hot. But, I can't feel a thing. It's absolutely beautiful.
I just keep looking at the hearse in the sky and I think - damn, I've never looked better in a suit.