Harbinger

It was a chilly Monday morning when the man in the dark trench coat, limped up the garden path to deliver the news. I stood at the kitchen window with a steaming cup of black coffee in my hand. I watched as he unlatched the garden gate and opened it with a squeal of protesting hinges. I watched as he carefully closed it behind him and started his slow progress to my front door. I watched as he noticed me watching, I saw it in his eyes, and it was then that I knew that my wife was finally dead.

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