A hearse parked outside, tires caught in snow. It was 5am when they came to pick me up, take me somewhere warmer. I heard no crying as they carried me in my box, maybe they were, but I couldn’t hear them over my own voice, singing to kill dead time. Family and friends heard murmurings of ‘Raindrops, drop tops (drop top), smokin’ on cookie in a hotbox (cookie)’, before they pried open the coffin lid. It’s an easy mistake to make, and Monday’s are always full of mistakes. For everyone. I didn’t get too mad, as ‘my bitch was bad and boujee (bad)’.