The loss of my wife had left me feeling utterly broken, as if a part of me had been ripped away. Every moment without her felt like an eternity of pain and loneliness. So, when I finally mustered the strength to venture outside, I found myself seeking solace in the familiar surroundings of our favorite coffee shop.
As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I was suddenly jolted back to reality by the unexpected appearance of Carmen, an old friend from the past. Her cheerful demeanor seemed out of place amidst the heaviness of my grief, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
“How are you?” Carmen asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to articulate the depths of my sorrow. “Well… to be honest, terrible,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
er expression softened as she listened to my words. “Why? What happened?” she inquired gently.
And then, with a heavy heart, I uttered the words that still felt surreal to speak aloud. “My wife died a week ago,” I confessed, the pain of her loss washing over me once again.
Carmen’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? I saw her just yesterday!” she exclaimed.
My mind reeled at her words, unable to comprehend how my wife could still be alive when I had spent the past week drowning in grief at home. “That’s impossible…” I murmured, my thoughts racing with confusion and disbelief.
But Carmen was insistent, recounting her encounter with my wife as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Yes, I even talked to her!” she insisted, her voice filled with conviction.
Unable to ignore the possibility that my wife might still be alive, I reached for my phone and dialed her number, my heart pounding with anticipation. As the line rang, I braced myself for the truth, uncertain of what I would hear on the other end.
And then, to my utter astonishment, a familiar voice answered the call. It was my wife, her tone filled with warmth and affection as she greeted me on the other end of the line.
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