About the Letter
Someone asked me about the contents of the letter which was referred to in my previous post The Big White House. Flash Fiction by The Lone Wolf So, I decided to oblige. Hope you all enjoy!
You don’t know our story, but you will soon know the short version. I am still home, I promise, and you can still come and visit me, but I’ll need some time. I am still grieving. The man you knew who used to sit on my front porch was my best friend. He and I lived close, and by the end, we were more than friends, but we had to keep it quiet from his wife. He would stay with me for a few hours every day, and we would pretend like we had nothing and no one else to worry about. We had been lovers when we were young, and I could manage trips to go abroad to see him. Soon however, he decided to be with someone else, and we parted ways. I came back here and started a family of my own with many children and grandchildren, as did he. He hadn’t wanted kids, but they came anyway. He and his wife ended up moving across the pond as it were, and their house wound up close to mine. I delighted in being with both of them, but soon, my friend’s wife became ill and took to her bed. Many days, she would find herself more asleep than awake, and he would inevitably find himself in my bed, as my husband had passed away. We loved it when you would walk by and say hello, or give Prince a pat. Last evening however, my friend’s wife died, and early this morning, he came to my house with a shotgun in his hand. Before I could say anything, he kissed me one last time and shot himself point blank. I still don’t know what to do, and I’d love your company at some stage, but I just don’t know when. Please don’t hate me for what you have heard.
Your undeserving friend,
I stood for a moment, stunned and grieved beyond words. Then, silently, i tucked the letter in my bag and went off to school. I would go to Lizzie’s house that afternoon, and we could talk. we could grieve together.