Dead « Random Thoughts of a Zombie
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“You know we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet. But, thank you anyway,” she says as they walk past the scrap of faded crime scene tape blowing in the wind.
How ridiculous, she says to herself, I’m thanking him for allowing me to enter my own home! Brushing a few raindrops off her coat, wishing she could remove the wet wig, she instinctively reaches for the light switch then laughs gently as she remembers there is no electricity now.
Inhaling deeply the smell of Home, she looks around the now dim and dusty living room. So many memories… fifteen years they lived here, since the day they married. The house itself was a wedding gift from her new husband. She never figured out how he pulled off buying a house when they were so young.
Walking a few steps in, she catches sight of a dried-up rose in a now-waterless vase on the coffee table. Lifting it out of the vase, a few petals fall to the hardwood floor. Amazingly, it still has a trace of its divine perfume.
She looks over at the officer standing in the front doorway. He’s still holding the umbrella used to partially shield her from the thunderstorm.
“He gave me a rose every single Wednesday of our lives together. We met on a Wednesday.”
He doesn’t respond.
http://lauraann.wordpress.com/2008/04/15/dead/
http://lauraann.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/living-room-front-door-before.jpg
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet. But, thank you anyway,” she says as they walk past the scrap of faded crime scene tape blowing in the wind.
How ridiculous, she says to herself, I’m thanking him for allowing me to enter my own home! Brushing a few raindrops off her coat, wishing she could remove the wet wig, she instinctively reaches for the light switch then laughs gently as she remembers there is no electricity now.
Inhaling deeply the smell of Home, she looks around the now dim and dusty living room. So many memories… fifteen years they lived here, since the day they married. The house itself was a wedding gift from her new husband. She never figured out how he pulled off buying a house when they were so young.
Walking a few steps in, she catches sight of a dried-up rose in a now-waterless vase on the coffee table. Lifting it out of the vase, a few petals fall to the hardwood floor. Amazingly, it still has a trace of its divine perfume.
She looks over at the officer standing in the front doorway. He’s still holding the umbrella used to partially shield her from the thunderstorm.
“He gave me a rose every single Wednesday of our lives together. We met on a Wednesday.”
He doesn’t respond.
http://lauraann.wordpress.com/2008/04/15/dead/
http://lauraann.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/living-room-front-door-before.jpg
