Yesterday, like the day before, strewn around it like the seeds of a sunflower corona, lay shepherd crook shaped drinking straws.
On the nightstand, below a bookshelf laden with books and the bible of a non-believer, is an empty glass; used to soak the teeth that went with him into the fire.
Tomorrow, when she visits again they will still remain; a reminder of his need for water.
She remembers his pain, and she thirsts.
Today, the telephone of late so hushed, rang. It was a man who called to say that she should collect his cask. She carried them away; his crushed bone shadows close to her ribs.Soon, men will come to take down the For Sale sign, and she wonders,Other than the water glass with its lime scale crust, just what would be left of him that others could see?