The Good Thing
I approached the newsagent as I usually do on a sunday morning - but this week not sure if it would be open. I'd seen the notice in the Spar last night and I suspected that things might have changed round here.
"I'm very sorry to hear about John", I said as I approached the counter with my Observer.
She took my two pound coins with her white gloved hands protecting against her skin condition. There was a pause during which I wondered if I had said the wrong thing.
"The good thing is," she said, "At least it didn't go to his bones."
"Had he been ill long?" I asked.
"No", she said. "He was only diagnosed in January."
"So quite quick then.."
"Yes," she said, "and I was there with him and he knew who I was and everything."
"Well take care then", I said as I left.