in front of a coffin shop trying to

ing been married to her. Be

his head wrapped round it but he sure knew that they at some point, stepped out of line—he couldn't deny the fact that they had long fallen out; of love, of patience and perhaps, of every

people were not allowed to speak negatively abo

friends. It might have as well been a killer or anything, the moment a person died, their wrongs we

n funnier that the ones who lived ended up being frowned at if they dared to speak ill of the dead. Bein

sentimental with eve

ave a ring imprint on it. Three years was enough to scar his heart. It was the gold wedding ring he had exchanged with Stef

led for a better view of the white and gold coffin inside the shop. He would never have thought that a day would come when h

ess that iced his heart, leaving him starstruck and lead-heavy. It was not a relief, nei

then one morning, he could never forget. He was able to catch some sleep for the first time sin

organs to be donated because it was very unlikely, she would make it. He had refused. Stefflon would not have loved the idea of being dissected and giving som

ped into the sweating doctors in sky-blue scrubs trying to revive her. The moment he stepped into her room; she gave up. Even

nditioner and scented candles. The exact type Stefflon used to burn whenever she was taking a shower or helping herself to a glass of red wine and fi

the one-seater couches in the living room wi

he other. He couldn't consign to oblivion, how she had

he cross carved with gold on it. Stefflon loved gold, even more than she loved anything els

A’ on it which almost sounded like Stefflon—at least a bit of likeness. But away from her identity tag, her resemblance

be her. He begged his stars;

white teeth. He loved how outstanding they looked on her ox-blooded

. His ni