Dead Man’s Hand

In the dark corner of the room, information was received that her husband had expired and was worthy of the grave as the party began to fizzle out like the last mist of a summer shower. Sometimes death is met with depression, sometimes with revelation and confession, at times, merely with regret or fascination, but God have mercy when it is met with relief or jubilation. She was silent and far from crying, I hated to shake a dead man’s hand in gratitude for dying, but opportunity is ever present in the lonely pursuit of love.