It was our anniversary and my monthly cemetery visit on the 15th. Alice had been with me for months, apprehensive about my solo journey.
“I can wait in the car if you want some time,” she said as we entered the iron gates.
Dear, that would be lovely. Not long.”
Danny’s scheme was well-known. I halted short as I neared.
A carefully organized arrangement of white roses adorned his headstone.
I bent to stroke their smooth petals and mumbled, “That’s strange.”
“What?” Alice yelled behind me.
“Someone left flowers again.”
“Maybe one of Dad’s old work friends?”
Shaking my head. “Flowers are always fresh.”
Does it annoy you?
Looking at the roses, I felt curiously soothed. “No. It’s just… I wonder who remembers him so well.”
“Maybe next time we’ll find out,” Alice squeezed my shoulder.
When we returned to the car, I felt Danny watching us, smiling that crooked smile I missed so much.
I answered, “Whoever they are, they must have loved him too.”
