I do not know why I knocked; I had a key. Who knows why we do odd things when there is a loss.

The door stirred the stale air, and made my nose turn up. The house was trashed, but I can not think of a time it was clean. That was just how Jill was. In fact, that was just how Jill’s life was; a mess.

I picked up, and wiped down; scrubbed, and waxed. I gave each room the care that Jill did not. Then, when not one thing was left, but six bags of trash to haul out, I stood over the body. It was not easy to dress Jill; her limp nude form gave me no help, but the shirt and jeans covered the needle marks, and made her look … well… clean. I wiped off the dust on the ‘Good Book’, and put it in her hand. I know mom and dad still loved her, but this will help. I know Jill would have done the same for me.