Her fingers trembled on the surface of the table, baby blue nails ticking against check-patterned black and gold formica. Not for the first time, she reflected on how hideous the table was. It was one of the things he had when he moved in. Some hand-me-down from his dead mother, so she kept it even though nothing was ever going to match with the thing.
She picked up the glass and drank the contents in one long swallow, her throat protesting the fiery liquor that splashed down into her stomach. The glass made a clacking noise on the tabletop. A match to just one notch on the winch that lowered the casket into the ground.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The glossy black box was draped in a spray of everlastings. They quivered as the coffin was lowered. Her lips pressed tightly together as she watched.
She wondered if she would ever smile again.