sound of my voice

 

She doesn’t hear me and walks straight by me. She doesn’t see me either.

I decide to watch her. Really watch her. Pay full attention to her. She vigorously washes pots and pans until they shine and scrubs the bathroom with bleach. She doesn’t go out much, stays home, reorganizing the shelves and drawers, and cries. I try to reach for her, talk to her, comfort her. She doesn’t notice me. She cries alone.

Had we had a child or two, she wouldn’t be alone now, and would that have helped? We had decided to wait to have a child. For all the parties we attended to cultivate my clients and trips we took to entertain them. We’d been married for six years, and I was busy, trying to be successful, the husband who provided. Now, I’m dead and have nothing to do but just watch my wife.

Does she miss me?

***

She wipes her tears and sighs.

Where did he hide the damn information about his secret accounts!?

 

 

For Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Week #36.

https://morguefile.com/creative/GaborfromHungary/47/all _DSC7987

 

8 thoughts on “sound of my voice

Please leave a message. ご意見、ご感想、お願いします。

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.