She stayed up all night with the body. It was just superstition, but her family wanted it done, and everyone else was so exhausted.
Her grandmother had surely passed the night beside her own loved ones, back in the day when wakes were held in living rooms rather than funeral homes. She sat next to the closed coffin in one of those chairs that always looked more comfortable than they felt, and wandered through memories.
The lights snapped on. The funeral director stood frozen in the doorway, cup of coffee in hand.
“How did you get in here?” he demanded.