Three days later

Pam turned the Yaris on to her street. It felt good to be coming home to her quiet little apartment after three days with her extended family in Shippensburg. The funeral had been sad, but sweet.

It had hit Pam, somewhere in the middle of the service, that the next person she loved whom she would lose would probably be her father. Mama Honey had been her last grandparent. She needed quiet to process that thought. There wasn’t a lot of quiet with the whole family around, even at a funeral. There were other thoughts to process as well. Happier ones. Ones with more promise.

Pam pulled into the driveway of the house in which she rented a one bedroom apartment. Her headlights illuminated a figure sitting on the front stoop. She smiled and killed the engine, climbing out of the car.

He stood up, but didn’t leave the step. She walked toward him, shaking her head slightly.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t wait.”

They sat down on her front stoop, not saying a word. He didn’t ask pointless questions like how the funeral was, or was she okay? He didn’t try to make her laugh. They were just quiet.

Then slowly, Jim reached out and put his arm around Pam.

She leaned her head on his shoulder.