Armed with flowers, she visits his grave. Six months gone. She lays the bouquet down, purple petals smeary as lipstick.

Dahlias, she says. They’re my favorite.

He’d always bought her daisies for wedding anniversaries, Mother’s Days. The old frustration sears her. Better to forget she’d told him a million times.

Adina Davis lives in Massachusetts. Her stories have appeared most recently at streetwrite.com and Intrinsick.