It had been weeks since I visited Henrietta. To soothe my guilt, I picked up her favorite sparkling wine. At ninety, she wasn’t a fine wine drinker. Five bucks would do. I purchased her favorite dark chocolates too.
I could see bright lights on in the kitchen. She usually kept them on low.
She’d say, “I have a budget, you know.”
Finally, Henrietta opened the door. She seemed dazed.