Obviously, the Flatiron Building isn't in the shot, but that's what they're looking at.
George came with me to the wake. Yet another feeling in a string of feelings that I hated about this whole experience...walking into that room and seeing your dead friend's body, the face flattened and made up, looking kind of but not entirely like that person you had seen just week before. It's another day I'm glad I don't have too many memories of.
As George and I approached the deceased, we each decided to lean against this wooden contraption set up right in front of the coffin. The thing gave way and we crashed into the casket which rocked back and forth on its bier. Luckily, nobody seemed to notice that two Jews that never saw a portable kneeler before nearly knocked the whole damn thing over.
His collar was a little loose, and we could see the ligature mark on his neck. I was always fascinated by forensics, yet part of me wished I hadn't looked that closely.
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