Dead Black Lingerie

He led me down the hallway, passing by half-open doors leading to his baby girl’s room, empty and darkened from the lack of her presence. If I had not been there, emptiness would have consumed the entire house. On Joey’s bed, unmade on one side only, lay a pile of gorgeous lingerie. Lace, silk, harnessed, dresses, bras, specialty underwear. More than I owned, certainly. Most of it was black. In a chair in the corner were her other clothes, set up more neatly, all still attached to their hangers. My eyes were drawn primarily in the direction of the normal, business-casual attire fit for a mom and a professional. He saw me staring at them, and said, “Ah, those ones are getting donated tomorrow. She wouldn’t have wanted me to keep stuff that we can’t use.