“Where’s the Nescafe, Pop?”
“Cabinet over the stove. Told her it would dry out up there, but she never listened.”
“Well, it’s dried coffee anyway—”
“It changed the taste!”
I spooned Nescafe and poured hot water from the kettle. “Where’d you get these mugs, Pop? She never told me.”
“Never asked, did ya? Some tourist shop after the wedding. Stupid idea. I had to get to work, didn’t I? I swore I’d take her on a real honeymoon someday. I swore it to her.”
Tears fell from his old eyes as his hands crushed a flower from the funeral.