She had rubbed her fingertips over the polished stone for hours on end, lost in recollections and contemplation. Nancy, her heart full with grief, knelt by the grave and delicately.
Put the pie on the gravestone. She started talking softly, as if Henry could hear her. “My darling Henry, I hope you’re at peace. Every day I miss you.
Once again, I made your favorite pie. Do you recall the times we baked it together? Before it was finished, you would always sneak a sample. Even though she had tears in her eyes,
A little grin appeared on her lips. “I wish we could do that one more time.” As usual, the melancholy swept over her, but Nancy had mastered the art of fighting back the tears.
