The Eye

For as long as I’ve known him, Jose’s worn a black eyepatch over his right eye.
I’ve never asked him how he lost his eye, and he’s never volunteered that information.
He just looks at me with his one eye and grins.
After fifty years, I’m looking down at him in his coffin, both eyes closed and no eyepatch.
I asked the funeral home director about the eyepatch. Did they put an artificial eye in the socket before closing it?
Nope. Eye was just as fine as the other one.
I guess he liked it, and it just looked good.