Babs perched on the hard bench in the musty bus depot, hands folded, knees together, shoulders back–just as she had been taught. She could have purchased a lunch combo for only $2.99, but her stomach rebelled.
It was beautiful outside. A perfect summer day. But she was too nervous to move, afraid to miss any moment of his return.
“Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me. . . .” the radio blared. A fat tear gathered in the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek.
His grave would be under the apple tree. . . . . .