It was during a thorough cleaning of the storage closet, six months after Louise's death, that Frank stumbled upon the long forgotten cigar box. Layers of dust covered it, faded pictures of adorned Indians decorating the sides. Anticipatory, in a way the reminded him of Christmas, Frank opened the box.
He knew just what was waiting to stare back at him; a lock of golden hair, a bottle of cologne given as a present, one silk stocking, and half of a cracked silver mirror.
This, he thought sullenly, was all he had left of her.
Cautious, he replaced the box.