April (A Drabble)
She stood over a pot of steaming rice,
stirring nonstop with one hand, while pouring water into little cups with the other.
Her hair was falling out again in patches, I tried hard not to notice. I squeaked out a "hi, my friend," and ran over for a hug and a kiss, eyes welling up.
Refusing my help, she offered me a seat at her table, served me dinner, and said, "tell me all about your life."
The next time I saw her, she was wearing her purple dress, still tanned from the summer sun, and in her mahogany casket.