It was one of our last meals together. She’d fixed pork chops the way I liked: plain, fried, with onions, in an old iron skillet.

How could I tell her I’d miss her? “Whenever I see a pork chop, I’ll think of you.”

Once again, she gave me that look.

Norman Gin is a novice at writing and this is his very first attempt at a 50-word story.