by A.R. Thomas

Three years.  That’s how long she’d been dead.  Three years ago yesterday, he stood at her graveside and threw a handful of dirt on her coffin as it was lowered into the ground.  They told him she hadn’t suffered, that she died quickly.  They told him she felt no pain, but he knew better, didn’t he. He knew there had been pain…a lot of pain.  He knew because he had inflicted it.  Nobody saw what he did to her day after day.

She visited him last night.

“Soon,” she said.

He hoped she wasn’t angry.

About Russ Thompson

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This