She's on time, but not the first there. Collette hadn't been sure what to do, to make this proper, when she's seen it before, mourned in her own way, but never for someone who had needed her like Peace had needed Stan.
She'd found something black, and something bright, feeling the juxtaposition is important. She didn't know how Stan would feel, between her somber clothing and the bright blanket on her lap. She even braided her hair back, making a semblance of effort for things she doesn't entirely know how to handle.
Would he want to cut his hair? She wanted to ask. Keeping her hands on her handrails, she waited for a moment to approach.
"Hey, Stan," she said, lifting one hand to wave while the other slowed her to a stop. She then opened her arms wide, a silent invitation for a hug. It was easier to offer than to force herself on him, given what she had to work around, but he'd been willing to hug before. Maybe it's as important for him as it is for her.
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She'd found something black, and something bright, feeling the juxtaposition is important. She didn't know how Stan would feel, between her somber clothing and the bright blanket on her lap. She even braided her hair back, making a semblance of effort for things she doesn't entirely know how to handle.
Would he want to cut his hair? She wanted to ask. Keeping her hands on her handrails, she waited for a moment to approach.
"Hey, Stan," she said, lifting one hand to wave while the other slowed her to a stop. She then opened her arms wide, a silent invitation for a hug. It was easier to offer than to force herself on him, given what she had to work around, but he'd been willing to hug before. Maybe it's as important for him as it is for her.