The Banker’s Wife

She spent the entire day, shopping for the perfect black dress. She took her tea at her favorite café with her lover. She dreaded going back alone to that empty prison she frequently called home. Yet, some things can’t be put off. After five years in another man’s arms, she has learned to manage her time and her heart.

The cold house welcomed her as she opened the door. The banker’s wife moved quietly in her husband’s room. The bed, unmade and undisturbed, bore traces of him. She walked towards her husband’s drawers where he kept his clothes and things. She started disposing of them, folding and packing them all. She should give them away to relatives that may fit into his clothes.

She rummaged through his shirts. Maybe, she won’t give them away to family members. Strangers would be best. She doesn’t really want to see relatives wearing his favorite shirt or those she gave him on special occasions.

He had a lot of shoes. Shoes are okay for relatives. She doesn’t look at their feet, anyway.

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