The Pyramid of Cans

Margaret stood in her pantry, admiring the pyramid of tuna cans she'd carefully arranged. At seventy-eight, she found comfort in small rituals. Her grandson Danny, twelve and full of restless energy, watched from the doorway.

"Grandma, why do you stack them like that?"

She smiled, thinking of her husband Arthur, gone three years now. "Your grandfather and I built our marriage like this, Danny. One can at a time."