Beverly had no qualms about copping a squat right there on the cobblestone, so, down she went - more graceful than rock, however, folding her limbs and sitting cross legged, coffee balanced in her two hands.
She brought that coffee to her lips for a sip - caffeine, work your magic. "You'll probably always miss her, I imagine," she said softly, a breezy windchime of a tone. "And it hurts. But each day it will hurt less and less. You...learn to live without her."
Loss was hard. Bev understood that. She still missed her mother, to this day - there was just no getting over that sort of thing. But what did they say? Grief was the price we pay for love? Annoying, but unfortunately true.