Tom had managed to live eighty nine years without mishap. He could hear his dead wife’s nasally, whinging voice saying “plain dumb luck”. He hoped Sadie was in heaven as he was definitely going to Hell; no way was he going to spend perpetuity with that nagging old crone on a fluffy white cloud.
She’d been dead for five days and the peace was glorious. He hadn’t realised his hearing aid batteries had died too. She’d always changed them on the first day of each month. She’d been taken into hospital on the last day of June. He remembered sitting on a park bench feeling the sun on his face, praying for her not to linger. It was hard travelling on the bus at his age; he’d sit at her bedside holding her hand. Sadie was obstinate and wouldn’t raise herself to open her eyes and acknowledge his presence. He’d always set the rules and, mostly, she followed them to the letter. Who was going to get his meals now?
At the inquest the coroner recorded a verdict of accidental death. The truck driver had sounded the horn repeatedly.
He hadn’t felt a thing, one minute crossing the road then here sitting on a hard uncomfortable chair next to his smiling dead wife. A chap in a sharp grey suit reached across the desk to shake his hand.
“Tom, welcome to Hell”.
Published on #ThursThreads Flashfiction Competitiion week 213 (Twitter)
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