Telling Jack
When she walked in, she called out Jack’s name. “I have a surprise for you,” she sang out, expecting to find her husband sitting on the living room couch. As she walked around, she saw signs that Jack had been home—a sock on the floor, a jacket thrown over a chair—but no sign of Jack himself.
Then she circled back around to the kitchen and saw a piece of paper on the fridge with her name on it in Jack’s handwriting. That hadn’t been there when she left an hour or two ago. As she opened the letter, she never could’ve prepared herself for what she was about to read.
