The Dress

It hurt my heart to see her wearing a dress I’d worn only once. Why did I keep it?  
 
I remembered how it fell to the floor when her father and I made love. It was after that night that I learned of his affair.  
 
“Can I borrow it?” Her words brought me back to the present.
 
“Yes,” I said, but cover your breasts, please.”  
 
She smiled, “Of course mother. I’m still adjusting it.”  
 
“It’s out of style,” I said.  
 
“He won’t care.”  
 
I started to tell her about the dress but held my words as the image of her standing in her darkened bedroom blurred from my tears.