We're in Destin, remember, so things are a little discomboobulated.
She came up the stairs behind me and stood at the landing, adjacent to my recliner, quietly.
After a few seconds I said, "So honey, are you ready to go for a walk?"
"When you hear what I've done, you won't be calling me honey."
Her tone indicates I'm in for some pain.
"Can you believe I did it again?!"
Only this time she did it better. All that's left is the cover, wet and limp. No trace of anything else remains.
A year of phone numbers, appointments, tax information, addresses, and memories...
I smile and say, "Well, no amount of worrying will bring it back."
But I'm sick inside.
This too will pass.