By Carla Collins
Evette went through her clothes. Her pink nightie; that was going in the carton. So was the sexy dress she wore on her birthday last week. Bob said she looked nice but it was a rare compliment.
Bob left for work each morning and came back in the evening. Dinner was always on the table. The TV was on. And they slept together side by side nightly. Everything remained scattered around the apartment as usual while Evette continued her mailing routine.
A week later Evette took a cab to the airport.
Bob read her note. A mantra everyday, for six months.
Is this mysterious, or what? I am shaking my head. Wondering. Trying to fathom that mantra every day for six months. This story really gives one something(s) to think about.