By Lon Richardson
The old man looked down at the serene form of his wife on the bed. She was still beautiful, but her smile was quiet. She had fought valiantly, but cancer won.
It took not only his wife of decades long past, but also his future. Without the woman he’d always loved, what did he have? He couldn’t think of anything. Anything of worth, he had lost forever.
Now he would wash down the last of the pills and set the empty water glass on the dresser, then lay down next to her. Soon, his body would be as cold as hers.
Evocative.