"Grandpa had been in poor health these last few years. He passed away from rectal cancer…"
My voice faded as I finished, unsure how to soften the weight of it. Saying it out loud made it feel more real, like the loss had just reached us in that quiet café, heavy and unavoidable.
The cup in Sally's hand slipped.
It hit the floor and shattered loudly, the sharp sound breaking the calm around us. For a brief second, she stood frozen, her breath caught. Then she quickly bent down, her hands shaking as she tried to gather the pieces.
A waiter rushed over at once, gently stopping her before she could hurt herself.
Sally kept apologizing, her voice trembling, her composure slipping in a way I had not seen before. There was no pride in her tone now, only something raw and exposed.
"It's really nothing, ma'am," the waiter said kindly as he crouched to clean the mess. "Please don't worry. I'll take care of it."
