Preservation, in all Forms. It’s a 6.

“There’s another funeral waiting on the hill...”

The man stood watch, still as a marble statute, skin as smooth, his smile softly radiating calm and comfort. Suit, the color of sooted charcoal and perfectly pressed, matched soft soled dress shoes – this was a man well practiced in the art of silence. The finest wool blend overcoat draped his body and though slight of stature, he commanded attention by a modest, unassuming demeanor; his calm voice pitched to those whose thoughts were far from the moment, he voiced the valediction. Not for the first time that day, would he be satisfied the mourning had been properly cared for; guiding those gathered in the cemetery’s open-air chapel, it’s brick and mortar frame providing barely the minimum comfort from the bitter winter day.

“Could have been a mess today, what with the forecast certain for snow, a blessing it held off so the sun could shine down instead.”