“You always nag me about using too much fabric softener,” Neville muttered wistfully. He placed the bottle on the shelf above the washing machine, and switched the machine to gentle. “Always too much, you’d say. But I like my smalls soft. And then you smile and tell me I’m a smoothie.” Neville folded towels and tea towels, piling them neatly on the kitchen table like Lorraine used to. “You’d be pleased with me,” he said, pouring out two cups of tea. It had been her birthday just last week and he bought her the usual card with roses and a little something inside. He sighed and sipped his tea. “Oh I do so miss you Lorraine,” he said, picking up the photo of his former housekeeper sitting on a camel near the pyramids. “Thanks again for the tatts ticket,” was scrawled on the back.
For the Flash Fiction weekend challenge; an elderly gent remembers.