Unreal

I was awakened by hands on my back. They were softly massaging my neck; my wife's way of seducing me. I opened my eyes and all I could see was the alarm clock, telling me it was past 2 in the morning, and a sliver of the full moon coming in through the curtains. I rolled over and lightly touched her face with my hands. She kissed me urgently, and I returned with equal groggy passion. I would never have refused an opportunity to touch my lady; not at 2 in the morning or any other time.

She ran her hands up my arms and down my back, across my chest and then let one of her hands stop on my face. I had a vague sense that something was wrong, but decided it didn't matter right now. The sight of her wedding ring- which she never took off- glinting in the sliver of light from the moon put me at ease. I took her shirt off and kissed her stomach, and then proceeded to remove the rest of our clothing.

After our sweet nighttime love-making, we faced each other and I held her tightly. She felt so light and soft in my arms and I felt extremely happy. It was a strange feeling, being so happy. It seemed almost unnatural and I once again had the impression that something wasn't right. I put my face against my love's and whispered her name.

At once everything changed. The soft woman now felt dry and unreal in my arms. A horrendous stench filled my nose. I sat up in my bed, shocked. Then I remembered.

My beautiful wife was dead.

And had been dead for seven months. The months without her had been spent in hopeless agony. My baby, the love of my life, was ripped away from me by death. Not a second went by that I wasn't thinking of her, missing her, and wishing I could bring her back from her untimely grave. She was my life and how unfair it was that she was taken from me.

I just sat there, mouth wide open, afraid to do anything. I could tell that whatever was in my bed was staring at me. I slowly reached over to the bedside lamp and turned it on. Laying in my bed was a dead person who was distinctly my wife. She may have been dead for seven months but that was not enough time to erase her beauty. She looked at me with the saddest face I have ever seen, dead or alive, and whispered back to me.

"Please don't make me leave you."

Looking at her dehydrated, wrinkled face, I almost wanted to cry. I could only imagine what she had been through to get to me and now she was afraid I would send her away. Just because she was dead.

I inched my way towards her and cupped her face in my hands, ignoring the rotten smell. I looked into her eyes that I knew so well. The lips that I had kissed countless times. Her ears, which held a pair of earrings that I had gotten for her on our first anniversary. In her eyes I saw the soul I knew. This was my girl and for seven long months I had wanted nothing more than to be with her again.