During Robert’s Funeral, My Sons Stood By The Casket With Dry Eyes And Perfect Black Suits…

rumbled down the street, the sound drifting up to the window—something so ordinary and absurd.

I started crying again. “I thought I was going to wake up a widow today.” Robert stroked my fingers. “And I thought I would never see you again.”

“Did you really drink the coffee?” “Just a sip. Enough to fake the symptoms. William was waiting outside. Irene’s continue reading …