SEVENTY-FOUR

she sends me out to the garden to get parsley.  how much i ask.  she takes my hands in hers and forms a little cup with them until they’re just so. this much she replies. she tops the pasta with the little leaves.

i shell a handful of pistachios at her request.  is this enough?  no, more.  after reaching enough, i crush them in a little bag.  she tops the salad with the little shards.

we sit on the deck eating our meal.  drinking the white i’ve purchased.  i don’t know whites so i query her about it.  i’m not discriminating about wine, she tells me. well, except that I don’t drink red.

there are candles. it is a cool summer’s evening.

i fix us a bowl of ice cream for dessert. mint chip. do you like mint chip she asks. i do i reply.

but not as much as Her. it’s Her favorite after all.

And then She’s gone.

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