She dreamt of orange. That silly orange he loved so much. Her sleepy smile had sobered that morning when she touched the empty spot to her left. He looked so peaceful. I’m glad I left the beard, she mused. Anne hated the way he let it go wild, but it was a part of him. And he was gone. She’d miss that beard.
Later that night, they reminisced. Jerry the jester. The walking book of jokes. The family story-teller. Scaring the kids. Driving gran to drink. And that damn orange suit. She couldn’t believe it fit after all those years.