Lorraine wiped away another tear from her eye with her handkerchief. She almost hated to use the handkerchief. It was another reminder of everything she’d lost already. She looked down at the little blue piece of cloth with pink roses embroidered on the corner. Her mother had helped her embroider a dozen of them when she was only ten years old. Their pink petals looked faded and frayed now from years of use.
Her mother had been gone for a whole six years now and her father had followed only days ago. Despite being twenty-three years old, Lorraine still felt quite abandoned by their deaths. It wasn’t as if she needed parents to provide for her, but they had always been a part of her life.
Her father had always been there for her, and now she was all alone.