think the saddest phrase in the English language might be, only.’” Karen “I ‘If covers my hand with hers, relaying a womb-like warmth that nonetheless chills me with anticipation. been lying to you since the day we first met.” “I’ve so?” “How have no husband anymore. died in late February. Sudden massive heart “I attack.” I glance at her left hand to see that the wedding ring is gone. happened at “It work,” she continues, carefully enunciating each word. kissed him goodbye that “I morning, not realizing I would never see him again. I lost so many of the years with him I was promised.” How hard it must be to divulge one’s lies after creating the perfect cameo. To release the buried light. Karen’s upper frame becomes wracked with sobbing. I remove the cigar from her hand, encircle her with my arms, and kiss her forehead. so “I’m sorry.” When she quiets, she searches through her purse for a pack of tissues. Then Karen rests her head on my chest. She smells of a fruity perfume. want him back. For “I one last embrace.” is a quiet that even the trilling of the tree frogs can’t shatter. asked me “You the other day what Jerry was like,” Karen says softly. As she struggles to speak further, her cheeks rise, producing an inverted wrinkle on the sides of her nose. was ‘U’ “He kind. Generous. Caring. We had no children. He meant the world to me.” The savagery
“I think the saddest phrase in the English language might be, ‘If only.’” Karen covers my hand with hers, relaying a womb-like warmth that nonetheless chills me with anticipation. “I’ve been lying to you since the day we first met.” “How so?” “I have no husband anymore. died in late February. Sudden massive heart attack.” I glance at her left hand to see that the wedding ring is gone. “It happened at work,” she continues, carefully enunciating each word. “I kissed him goodbye that morning, not realizing I would never see him again. I lost so many of the years with him I was promised.” How hard it must be to divulge one’s lies after creating the perfect cameo. To release the buried light. Karen’s upper frame becomes wracked with sobbing. I remove the cigar from her hand, encircle her with my arms, and kiss her forehead. “I’m so sorry.” When she quiets, she searches through her purse for a pack of tissues. Then Karen rests her head on my chest. She smells of a fruity perfume. “I want him back. For one last embrace.” is a quiet that even the trilling of the tree frogs can’t shatter. “You asked me the other day what Jerry was like,” Karen says softly. As she struggles to speak further, her cheeks rise, producing an inverted ‘U’ wrinkle on the sides of her nose. “He was kind. Generous. Caring. We had no children. He meant the world to me.” The savagery
WOMAN-BY-THE-LAKE-0717.docx