Chazz Michael Michaels couldn’t remember the last time he’d set foot in a church. He knew why- The stained glass windows dimmed the sunlight as it came through, casting shadows of saints’ faces on the floor. The smell of old people hung in the air, along with the smells of wine and incense. He also couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a tuxedo, and it itched.

The aisle from the back of the church to the front was the longest walk Chazz had ever taken. The pews seemed to stretch on and on until he finally reached the altar. Stepping up onto the stage-like setting, the brunette peered down into the open casket.

James MacElroy had never looked as peaceful as he did in that wooden box; His face was serene, his arms crossed over his chest, his blonde curls perfectly arranged around his head.

But his lips were blue, almost as blue as his eyes had been; a light, pale blue that made Chazz think of an evening sky preceding a storm.

Jimmy’s former skating partner choked as he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Chazz found his feet stuck to the floor, glued there by the shock of his deceased friend. He broke out into a cold sweat, the perspiration sticking to the undersides of his arms.

Finally, Chazz found the strength to tear his eyes away from the shell that once held Jimmy’s youthful soul. He walked briskly down the steps, past the pews, and through the front doors, where he promptly vomited onto the beautiful azalea bushes.