She still slices apples the way her husband did for her when they were first dating, in circular slices. They hold more peanut butter. She’s never seen this done by anyone else, and it charms her, this small thing, and she slices apples this way for the next fifteen years. Now, the husband is gone but the apples still get sliced this way. She doesn’t think of the husband every time, only occasionally, especially that one time when she slices right into the tip of her ring finger, when she thinks, Maybe I should slice them differently now.