When she saw the headline that Monday morning, a white bird unfurled its wings in her chest.
It can’t be true, she thought. God punishes virtue not sin.
When she saw his name—number 42 on that dreadful list—her eyes brimmed, but her lips twitched.
When the sky turned black that night, she filched his spare car-keys from the drawer and crashed his baby into the first potted plant outside the gate.
The sky did not fall. Her phone did not ring.
Tearing open a pack of crisps, she took off her wedding ring and at last began to dream.