In McDonalds, I walked over to Donice, sitting alone, drinking her senior coffee and reading the paper. Six months ago, she lost Melvin, her love of sixty years.
"How ya doin', Donice?"
"Oh, the house is so lonely. I am slowly cleaning up. Melvin was such a pack rat. He saved all the plasticware from this place--there are drawers full of the stuff. He saved all the McDonald's receipts--for the... paper. I guess it was from his Mennonite grandparents who escaped from Russia with nothing. Why throw away a perfectly good spoon?"
"It has to be tough to get rid of alot of that stuff--too many memories."
"Yeah," Donice said, "I haven't touched his hat on the back of the chair where he last hung it."
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