This weeks randomly generated theme is:
A graveyard is the location, hatred is the theme. A diamond ring is an object that plays a part in the story.
Ok, so here goes:
I stare at the cold hard stone. The deep engraving is fresh. I feel a sharp pain reading the words, as if each one is engraved into my heart. I held it together at the funeral, projecting the mask of the grieving widow, but now that I am alone I don’t have to pretend anymore. I kneel on the ground and talk to the freshly packed soil. I have so many questions that I will never get answers to. There’s a hole in my life where he used to be and all that is left to fill it is questions.
“Why Pete, why were you driving on the other side of town when you were supposed to be working late in the office?”
I stare at the ground, willing an answer from thin air. When one doesn’t materialize I continue, “And why were you over the limit? I don’t think I ever saw you drink more than two beers unless you were celebrating. What could possibly have made you drive under the influence?”
Again there was nothing. This behavior was just so unlike the man I loved, the sensible, reliable Pete I had married. Either he had been lying to me this whole time or there was something here I was not seeing. Of course there was really only one question I wanted the answer to, “Who was she Pete? The woman that died beside you in the accident?” The police autopsy had revealed very little and no-one had yet come forward to claim her. I remove the final piece of the puzzle from my pocket, the item that was found in his suit pocket. I stare at the diamond, comparing it to the one on my wedding ring. It is bigger, shinier, more expensive. A part of me wants to keep it, but it will always represent this man I never knew. The anger at his deception finally boils to the surface. I throw the ring into the soil and shout loud enough to wake the dead, “who the hell were you Pete?”