M
Magickman
Guest
At the local discount store, I exchanged greetings with one of the workers, a white-haired widow of seventy-some years.
At her age, she works as an antidote to loneliness, from her nine years as a widow.
Her husband, she told me, was very controlling, never even letting her learn to drive. So she takes the bus to work.
Further, she confided, her now-deceased husband forced her to promise that she would never seek another man, after he was gone.
“He can’t enforce that any more,” I said. Her answer, “I am afraid he would come back.”
At her age, she works as an antidote to loneliness, from her nine years as a widow.
Her husband, she told me, was very controlling, never even letting her learn to drive. So she takes the bus to work.
Further, she confided, her now-deceased husband forced her to promise that she would never seek another man, after he was gone.
“He can’t enforce that any more,” I said. Her answer, “I am afraid he would come back.”