He sipped his orange hot chocolate, opposite Isobel’s empty recliner chair.
He wasn’t being a mug again.
George closed the lounge curtains as dusk fell. He’d promised Isobel he’d banish the darkness.
She broke her promise. She shouldn’t have gone first.
George looked into the hall mirror, the edge of which Isobel decorated with shells. What would she say now?
Something like George Gosling, will you always moan or will you smile before the next Ice Age?
He cried. He smiled. Somewhere he knew, Isobel approved.
It would do for a new start.