The Dead by James Joyce. the whole story feels to me, soft and grey. its comforting somehow, but not in a happy way, like a whisper, and old eyes smiling, old eyes that speak of joy, and also of pain.
“His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.” – James Joyce in “The Dead”
