She wiped her tears swiftly and forced another little grin. She kissed her fingertips and lightly stroked the top of the tombstone after a few more seconds of stillness, and then she turned to go.
Nancy left with a sorrowful but somewhat relieved heart, knowing that she will be back next year as usual. As part of her annual ritual, Nancy went back to the cemetery the next day to clear away the remnants of the pie.
In most years, the pie was either ruined by the weather or stayed unopened, serving as a silent reminder of Henry’s absence, which made her return even more melancholy.
She had always felt a peculiar sense of comfort when she saw the pie still there, as if it were waiting for him. But something was different this time.
When she got closer to the cemetery. When Nancy saw that the dish was clean—totally empty—her heart skipped a beat. She stood for a while, stunned and still.
