My Last Rolo

“Would you like my last Rolo?” I hold it in the palm of my hand, lying in state in its foil wrapper. She turns towards me and wipes away the strands of hair that are stuck to the tear trails on her cheeks.
“I know it’s an old cliché, you just look like you could do with it” I smile as I proffer it again but this doesn’t tempt her and she turns away, right around now, so her back becomes my view. My smile has a habit of taking on a state of leering which has betrayed me before when attempting to be friendly.
“You don’t have to eat it now, I just thought, you know …” my sentence peters out in the wind that rushes through, taking my words up towards the exit.
“It’s my mother, she died a year ago today.” Her voice only just managed the journey to my ears.
“Oh, I’m sorry … I didn’t realise, didn’t know.” I wasn’t really sure what to say.  I feel a bit embarrassed that I left the Rolo hanging out there for so long.
“It’s why I am wearing this acorn brooch, it’s all I have left of her now.” Her eyes, red and swollen, look down at her lapel. “She was murdered,” her voice struggles with the words, “she was trying to protect my abusive father. Why did she do that?”
I shift awkwardly. This wasn’t my expectation when making my Rolo offering. She retches, her hands covering her mouth. “It wasn’t my fault but they’re re-opening the investigation, the Police, I don’t know what to do? She shouldn’t have been there. I thought she’d gone out. I should’ve checked before lighting the petrol. It was only meant to have got him …”

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