The loss of my wife had left me feeling utterly broken, as if a part of me had been ripped away. Every moment without her felt like an eternity of pain and loneliness. So, when I finally mustered the strength to venture outside, I found myself seeking solace in the familiar surroundings of our favorite coffee shop.
As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I was suddenly jolted back to reality by the unexpected appearance of Carmen, an old friend from the past. Her cheerful demeanor seemed out of place amidst the heaviness of my grief, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
“How are you?” Carmen asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to articulate the depths of my sorrow. “Well… to be honest, terrible,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
er expression softened as she listened to my words. “Why? What happened?” she inquired gently.
And then, with a heavy heart, I uttered the words that still felt surreal to speak aloud. “My wife died a week ago,” I confessed, the pain of her loss washing over me once again.
