Karen walked into the kitchen, with the rollers still loosely attached to her hair.
She slammed the door of the bathroom from where Jim had broken the hinge, and passed the picture of Donny they had hanging up in the hallway.
He was smiling.
Karen felt the cold tinge of the glass against her cheek as she sobbed, wetting the picture frame with her tears.
She swore she could feel Donny’s arms around her, a cold wisp of air, a slight aura of... Love.
She swore it.
