One Last Look, by Natasha Cabot

Mother and son parked in front of the house, and they sat silently. The car engine, uncomfortable with the quiet, tried to make conversation but its attempts at communication were ignored.

Through the curtains, he could still see his wife’s shadow hanging from the rafters, stiff – the way he found her body.

“Want to go in?” his mother asked.

“No.”

He closed his eyes, forbidding his tears to fall. The man cleared his throat, and they drove away.

His wife waved goodbye from the window, taking one last look at her husband. And then she went back to her noose.

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