Auntie Mame was singing along with the radio one morning when you brought her breakfast. The radio was playing opera. She paused long enough for her go to expression. 'Go to hell.' Did she ever say anything else?
You smiled. Shaking your head as you placed the coffee at her feet. You turned and walked down the street to the corner shop. Her voice wasn't bad. Probably could sing pretty well, before she went insane, that is.
The song decrescendoed to an end. You tossed a single rose at her feet. And you swear you heard her say 'thank you.'