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PrologueI wore red to his funeral.Prologue
Ignoring all the disapproving glares and painful comments, muttered carefully within earshot, I stood amongst people I had never met and who, in all probability, had never met him. I didn’t set out to annoy them, it wasn’t as if I had woken up and decided that being hated was the order of the day. Though I know he would have loved it, loved the irony of aggravating his absent relatives with the same ‘wanton impropriety’ that had led them to shun him.
Besides, I wore red for him. Before I met him I had always worn dull, muted colours: hiding in the foreground. He had bro
by ~professional-geek
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