After his unexpected death, she stood there in the funeral home, staring blankly at the urn. The decision to have him cremated had been hers, a final act of control over the situation. She didn’t cry, not like she expected to, and maybe that’s what unsettled her the most. When she finally brought the urn home, she placed it carefully on the table, her fingers grazing the smooth surface. She was alone now, and the silence filled the room like a heavy weight.

Sitting across from the urn, she exhaled a long breath, unsure of where to begin. Her voice broke the stillness as she spoke to him, like he was sitting there with her, a ghost of the man he once was. “You know that fur coat you promised me?” she asked, a faint smile creeping across her face. It had been years since he made the promise, a vague, off-hand comment about how he would buy her the most beautiful coat once he got the promotion he had been working for. But that promotion never came, and the coat remained a distant dream.

“I bought it with the insurance money,” she continued, a slight bitterness tainting her words. The money wasn’t enough to make up for all the things left unsaid, the years spent in a marriage that had never fully been what she wanted. But it was something. She reached out, running her hand over the top of the urn, as if expecting him to somehow feel her touch. The coat had been extravagant, yes, but she had been worth it, hadn’t she? She deserved something, anything, after all the years of compromise.