“Black from hat to boots!” declared Aunt Weegie, shaking her head. “In my day, it would be a sure sign of mourning. These days, people think it’s a fashion statement. Or a life choice. Funny to call it a life choice, when it’s so focused on death. It’s surely grief whether you know it or not.”
“I say it ain’t normal to be so chummy with death. Skulls and bones and bloodless white pallor on purpose? A person shouldn’t court death. Even if you live to be a hundred, death will come calling soon enough. No need to woo it.”
This is my entry in the trifecta writing challenge using the third definition of black.