I’ve saved you a space. It’s under the shelf with the shell on. The one we found on the beach that weekend he was away at a conference. I’m putting you next to my lucky 2p coin. It was in the change you gave me the day we first met in that coffee shop you worked at before you became ill. He’s scattering your remains tomorrow. I’m not invited, why should I be, he doesn’t know me. I’ll wait until they’ve gone, then I’ll collect some of your ashes. The urn I’ve got is tiny so I won’t need many.