When she returned that morning, Holly found him looking in the mirror which sat in the far corner of their small room, and it took him a moment to even notice her entrance, for he was busy straightening the cuffs of a glossy brown jacket. "Simon, what are you doing? That suit isn't familiar--is it new?" inquired Holly as she set down the groceries upon the table. The young man grinned ruefully at this. "Yes, it's new; went to town and had it fitted the other night while you were asleep; picked it up a couple minutes ago. What do you think?" "It looks quite nice. But what's the occasion? Why would you need a suit?" "Well, I figured it was collateral--you see, the shirt I was to wear in my casket got stained, so I figured I'd get this just in case...you know." He flattened the lapel as he spoke these words, his face both sharp and vulnerable at once. "So. Just shopping for a funeral suit. Perfectly normal behavior. 'Cause you know what they say-" he turned upon his heel and faced her, arms outstretched slightly, "can't spell 'funeral' without 'fun', am I right?"
I like your pictures and descriptions of Simon and Holly. Kind of remind me of "The Fault in Our Stars" (except in that she's the one with the air tank). Have you ever read it? I get the idea you'd like it.