Evening Walk

I still smelled the floral scent of my wife’s perfume and dreamed of her laughing, a soft cackle that used to bring a smile to my face. Her beautiful complexion used to turn heads wherever we went. She was flawless.

One evening the air was perfect for a walk, or so we thought.

That was the evening a man wearing a mask robbed my wallet. When my wife called him a coward, he shot her in the stomach. When she laid on the ground, my hand cupping her head, she whispered, “I love you.”

My world was never the same.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher