-
About Richard?
-
Yes.
Sarah intervened:
We don’t know if they are authentic.
Jake turned to her.
That’s why I came.
I watched the envelope.
Give It To Me.
Sarah grabbed my arm.
- Mom, no.
I've been free of charge.
It is my home. It was my husband. And it's my life. Give me the envelope, Jake.
There was a photo inside.
Richard.
- Linda.
And I.
It was made in our garden eight years ago, just a few weeks before Richard died.
Behind the photo, Linda wrote:
“Margaret doesn’t remember.”
I felt a thrill.
What do I not remember?
Jake was lowering his eyes.
The night Richard died.
I knew the story.
Or I thought I knew it.
That night, Richard had a heart attack.
I had taken a sleeping pill for the doctor and slept upstairs.
In the morning, Sarah found me disoriented in the bedroom.
Richard was found lifeless in the office.
