Image by Alice Woodrome

Weston woke to the sound of his wife's sobbing. "What's wrong Caroline?" he said, rolling over in bed.

She didn't answer, but instead reached for a Kleenex on the nightstand and wiped her tears.

"Is it something I did, honey?" he asked, only half awake. "Talk to me."

She blew her nose and sat up in bed. Weston looked at his wife's slumped shoulders as she rose and walked toward the kitchen as if she were in a trance. Why was she behaving so strangely? It wasn't like Caroline. She'd always been the one who insisted they keep the lines of communication open.

Weston rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to think, but he was still in a haze. He followed his wife to the kitchen. "Tell me what this is all about, honey." He sat down at the table. "You know I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose."

Caroline ignored his words. She stepped to the cabinet and took down a cereal bowl and placed it on the table. She faced her husband for an instant, but it was as if she was looking right through him.

"We've always been able to work things out," Weston pleaded, studying Caroline's face before she turned to get a box of Post Toasties from the pantry. He'd never seen her look so tired, so stressed. She ran her fingers through her graying hair and sighed as she opened the refrigerator to get milk. It was surreal to watch his wife of twenty years pretend he wasn't in the room. Weston tried to make sense of it all as Caroline ate a few bites and emptied the rest down the garbage disposal.

"It's not your style to give me the silent treatment, Caroline," he said, losing patience. "If you have something to say, spit it out."

She poured herself a cup of coffee and set back down again across the table from him. "Why, Weston?" she said, still refusing to look him in the eyes. "Why did you abandon me now? You know I can't get along without you."

"Abandon you? What do you mean? I'm right here. How have I abandoned you?"

Caroline didn't explain. She buried her head in her open hands, and began to sob again.

Weston rose to his feat to comfort his wife. "Please, Caroline," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Tell me what you mean."

Caroline did not react to his touch.

A voice, not unlike his own, came from behind them both. "She doesn't know you are there, Weston. It is time to go now."

Weston turned to the voice, startled by the intruder. There was a man of average height, dressed in a sport shirt and jeans standing by the doorway.

"Who are you?" Weston demanded.

"The name is Quinn, but that is unimportant. I am your escort this morning."

"Escort? To where?"

"Back where you came from."

"What?"

"You are dead, Weston, and you can't stay here anymore. It is time to go now."

Weston's mind began to spin with a million questions. He looked at his arms – odd how they didn't look quite solid. Dead? How could that be? Yesterday he was feeling fine. It did explain his wife's peculiar behavior, though. But still, wouldn't he know? And Caroline – "What about Caroline? he asked. "I can't go anywhere. I have to take care of my wife."

"She will learn to take care of herself."

"You don't understand; I haven't finished things. I haven't taken her to see the ocean yet. We were going to do that next spring. I've been promising her for years. And the house - I've only got it half painted. I can't go now."

"Very few people are ready," the man said, "that's why they don't believe they are dead for a while. But it is time to say goodbye to this realm."

"Where? Where did you say I'm going?"

"Back," the man said. There was kindness in his eyes. "Back to where you came from - back to the beginning of everything."

"Take my hand," the man said reaching out to Weston. "They are expecting us."

Weston looked back at Caroline and a wave of love and regret filled his heart. Then he turned, unafraid, to take the hand of his escort. The kitchen and even Caroline faded from his consciousness as they walked toward – home.

The End