At The Ohel 

I stood for a while in front of the wall of lit tea lights. 
Feeling the heat of their combined tiny flames. 
Breathing in their smoke. 
Taking in the scene in this antechamber behind a door, before the grave. 
A young fellow was putting Tehillim back into the shelves next to the candles. 
Exuding the vibe of someone who worked in a shop, he asked me, "What are you looking for?"
"Nothing, " I said, meaning, maybe, everything.