………….

She first appeared on a grey Tuesday. Perched herself on the corner of my unremarkable cement slab and started talking. Softly, as if we already knew each other.

She said she didn’t mean any disrespect, she just needed somewhere to grieve.

At first, I wondered, Why me?

But then I thought, Why not me?

I listened. because it broke the monotony. A voice, a presence, anything was better than the silence. But after a few visits, I began to wait for her.

She brought little trinkets, left them like offerings.

Sometimes, she even brought a picnic. She’d sit cross-legged beside me, talking between bites, as if I might answer.

And in a way, maybe I did.