“Do you know why your grandmother kept that dress all these years?”
I shook my head.
He smiled.
“Because it was the last night we danced together.”
A month later, Grandma passed away peacefully.
Thomas was beside her.
Holding her hand.
Just as he had promised he would be all those years ago.
At the funeral, he stood quietly near the front.
After everyone left, I noticed a small box resting beside Grandma’s flowers.
Inside was a photograph from prom night.
Young Mary.
Young Thomas.
Smiling beneath bright lights.
And folded beneath it was a handwritten note.
It read:
