Slinking off to the bathroom, I dressed. The jeans fit perfectly, so did the T-shirt, but I didn't use the bra, or the panties because that would be tacky, whether they fit me or not.
“Whose things are these?” I asked, coming out of the small bathroom.
“Those were Becky's.”
“Becky?” I stood into the boots he had set on the floor. They were my size, lo and behold.
“Frank's woman's things,” he added.
“Yeah. Hey, I'm sorry to hear about her—God, that's terrible.” I stared down at the floor. I couldn't imagine how that must have been. She'd had blue eyes, and brown hair that she dyed blonde, and long finger nails that she went to have done weekly. She was pretty, I thought. My inner eye was seeing her, mainly because I was wearing her clothes. Effing great.
“She had a nice wake, and fune
