In pursuit of retentivities..

She was standing there, with her hand resting on the coffin, with the scent of white lilies, rose foliage and lacquer, she was breathing heavily. The fold was watching. 

 There were no scarcity of memories, be it strolling together in the sunshine to running/dancing in the rain or going on a random walk on a highway - getting lost and finding their way again, worrying about those unpaid maids, driver and utility bills; Celebrating almost everything - tiny or huge; shopping for each other to shopping for friends and relatives.

 She tried to marshal those higgledy-piggledy reminiscences into order, allowing her to say something lucid. As soon as she did, something strange happened. Every now and then she started to analyze those memories,  but they became gradually less discrete and then vanished all together. Just like, the more you squeeze, the more sand trickles through your fist, these memories played the same game with her. As it kept on happening, time after time, she began to panic. What was happening to her? Why were they going? Where were they going? She kept on thinking what all will remain with her, when the last of these recollections slip away?
She, as a lass, innocently smiled. Held out her hand. Doctored his life.

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