The only time she laughed out loud was at the next-door renters, who stopped in to leave a sponge cake, pay respects. Not much past twenty-five, I’d guess, in backless tops and shorts no less, they trembled chins over their perfect breasts as I imagine poodle dogs would do, if told to sympathize. A shame we didn’t know him more, I thought we’d hear them weep, you know, how all the casual mourners usually say to the bereaved. She hadn’t met them yet, or socialized. It had been hard to get away those last few months, with Arthur’s health declining like it was -- the only time she though he left her sight was to walk down the drive and get the paper every afternoon. So we were nearly scandalized when they said that the cake was one that Arthur used to love for them to make, when he stopped by to say hello -- Why only yesterday he’d checked their gutters for the second time this week!
Ali Fischer