Frank walked into the house where he had spent his youth and was planning to spend his old age. It was such a warm, familiar place, but today, it felt cold and alien.
Frank was used to walking in to the sound of the TV, where Ethel would watch her soap operas or talk shows. There was only silence today. The maroon couch, which she nestled in like a velvet throne, stood as an empty monument to her life.
The cancer had spread faster than anyone could anticipate. She faded away right before his eyes, the woman he had known and loved for more than five decades, and he could do nothing but stand by helplessly. Sadness was replaced by anger, which led him further into sadness.
He sat down on the couch, feeling that it was inhabited by Ethel’s spirit. Frank never believed in such things. He was not…
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