The call no one wants
When Mercy General called, I knew what was going on before the doctor was even finished.
The car accident had taken his life instantly.
The following days blurred into flowers, black clothes, and grief so heavy it felt like drowning.
At the funeral, Eleanor sat stiffly and inscrutably in the pew opposite. After the service, she approached me with a face that had never softened once.
“This is your fault,” she whispered sharply. “If he hadn’t kept running to you, he’d still be alive.”
I didn’t answer. My heart was already empty. There was no room for her bitterness.
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