with the cold, cheap beer in her iced tea glass, drunk by nine in the morning, she would settle into her routine. a tuna sandwich for lunch everyday. a nap, and another drink to ease the pain. a phone call to her brother. listening for the postman while pretending to watch t.v.
and always spending hours and minutes dreaming of the two husbands she lost; one by divorce, one by death.
i visited often and listened to her stories, and always about how the electric shock therapy caused her watch to keep funny time.
i miss her in the early morning.