Burn Baby Burn
August 19, 2009 by lastgunslinger
She was trembling as she unfolded the piece of paper she found underneath her husband’s death bed. She wanted to succumb to the severe hysteria that wanted to take over which invited her to buy some gasoline and a box of matches so that she could burn the house down while she sat a few meters from it, listening to burning, static sounds.
But she was trembling too much and she knew that she wasn’t capable of such laborious tasks, arson loving or not.
Her eyes, however, wouldn’t stop squeezing out tears. If she had visited the hospital then, it would have made headlines across town and the doctor would have been quoted as saying, “This poor lady is suffering from an extreme case of dehydration due to crying too much. (cue laughter from cruel crowd, pause, resume laughter, a note higher)”
She wouldn’t notice the slow loss of electrolytes as she read what was written:
“My love,
I have nothing much to give. I have not learned how to save and keep. You and I were all I knew and in the same manner will my brain rot. I have lived my life loving you. Now, let me die for it, too.
For dying, forgive me.”
She was counting the coins and bills in her pockets as she folded the letter, wondering how many pints and sticks she could afford to buy.
