The Dead Wife Who Still Baked His Last Meal
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Summary
The first boom of the New Year’s Eve fireworks rattled the windowpane.
I had been fading for years, ever since I gave Graham a piece of myself—my kidney. Now, having used my last reserves of energy to bake his favorite holiday apple crumble, my heart seized, a violent, final spasm. I collapsed onto the living room sofa for a moment’s rest, but the rest never ended.
The wall clock read 8:00 PM.
Graham Pierce, our son Finn, and Vanessa Ray walked in, a tableau of the life he was already living.
