Loretta never went to see Uncle Raymond.
She meant to. Truly. But time slipped away quietly, like the way Martin would slip his fingers into hers when no one was looking.
The morning after the call, she stared at her phone for a long time, debating whether to text or call back. But Martin made coffee just the way she liked it, black with a bit of cinnamon, and kissed her temple before handing her the mug.
And just like that, the urgency faded.
Days passed. Slowly at first, then all at once.
It wasn’t anything grand or dramatic. Just little things.
Like the way he always waited for her to sit before starting his meal.
Like the way he touched the small of her back when they passed each other in the kitchen.
Like the way he kissed her when they were sure no one would see. Quick, quiet
