ST. MaryParsonage, Manchester
263 Words
Pete had driven to church the following day. He was about to say his confessions and felt like that was the perfect place to finally read that letter. It was the place her remains were finally laid to rest. He wandered restlessly through the chapel and followed the dark corridor that led to the cemetery.
In order to ward off the dreading thought of reading the content of the letter, his mind drifted towards Agnes and her last words to him last night. He hoped they were the last – for her sake. If he was being honest with himself – and for once, with her – Agnes had always been a convenience. She knew it; he knew it, they both knew it but both parties weren’t ready for that conversation. Love was really never going to be in the picture for them.
“Sorry,” he excused himself as he collided with the shoulder of a mass servant. He went two steps down the terrace and into the neat courtyard where the embedded graves were lined up symmetrically. He remembered the direction of her tombstone; she was laid to rest some few days ago. He moved towards that area while holding the thick envelop. Finally reaching it, he swept off the scanty debris that already littered the small encampment of her grave and sat on it. He eyed the letter again in his palms, once again dreading its content. He finally loosened the flap and, as he depicted, the number of papers explained the thickness. There were seven full sheets of paper.
- Writer
