Funeral

Every person on the upper deck off this train is wearing a black coat. While they might be leather, wool, or have some northwest sounding name on the breast, but they are distinctly black.

All, of course, but one: a small grey haired old lady with a neon yellow windbreaker covered in little blue lightning bolts. She is sitting at the very front and we are all following her at the same speed, though she seems faster.

If any one of us had a scythe this would be really ominous.