Unspoken words. by write hand blue Flash Fiction contest entry |
His wife Susan, sat opposite him at the breakfast table. She'd been crying, he could tell by her puffy red eyes and her serious manner. He had learned a lot about his wife in sixty years, and he found this difficult. He looked straight into her eyes, "It's alright my dear, I know, yes I know." She didn't answer him. So, he placed his hand towards her halfway across the table. She didn't respond, anyway, he left his hand there for a minute, just in case. "If there's anything . . ?" He spoke the unspoken to someone who knew him better than anyone alive. "Yes, I do understand why you don't want to reply. You are quite right to be mad at me for leaving you this way, on your own. Believe me, I'm so sorry, I didn't want to leave you like this yesterday morning, when I died." ***
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