They seemed so natural lying on the stony cobbles of the farmhouse walk, as if there was no more fitting place to be. There was the foolish stuffed bear I’d given her on our first date. She’d said it wasn’t the price but the precious that made it matter to her so much.
In its moth-eaten paw was the flower. Wildflowers had always been her favorites. It could have been the selfsame one I’d placed in her hair as they closed the coffin that day.
She was forever gone, yes, but she’d left me these reminders she would always care.