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“Morning,” Alice sings as she walks through the front door. I remain seated on the sofa, glaring at the TV. “What's wrong?” she asks. The sofa announces her presence as she sits beside me, however, I continue to ignore her. “Okay, you're mad at me, but why?” “Because of your secrecy!” I spit, still with my eyes glued to the screen. “What – I – but—” she flusters, gaining my attention. A little smirk rests on my lips as I watch her wriggle. She throws her hands in the air. “What do you want from me?” “I'd want the truth, Alice. Why won't you tell me who you're dating?” She opens her mouth to speak, only to close it again. The frustration in her face settles as she gazes down to her hands that are playing with the ends of her hair. “It's …show more content…

The woman tightens her grip around the tissue, lowering her gaze as she delivers the unwanted message. “We received a phone call this morning from Mrs Myrtle. My father and a few of their friends meet at the cafe for breakfast every Sunday, and she was worried when he didn't arrive, so they called me and my husband to come and check on him.” Her voice catches in her throat, causing her to pause as she regains her composure. “When we arrived, we found him sleeping in his chair with the letter in his hand.” A fresh set of tears run down her cheeks. My body sways, forcing me to reach out to the nearest stool. Please, no more, I can't hear anymore, I silently plead with her. “I knew he was dead before I reached out to touch his skin.” She raises the tissue to cover her eyes as she sobs. Alice embraces her, allowing the woman to rest her head on her shoulder. I watch as her shoulders heave up and down with her sobs. I bring the envelope to my chest as I allow the first set of tears to release. He thanked me for helping him sleep, he knew he was to draw his last breath. “I'm sorry, I have to go.” The woman's voice is but a mere whisper. By the time I raise my head to thank her for bringing the letter to me, Alice is already closing the door. She eases herself into the stool beside me. “I'm not trying to be insensitive here, but I'm a little confused.” With the letter still in my hands, I rest them on the bar before I retell the

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