The Sound of Regret

She heard the crunch of gravel under tires in the driveway. Thank God, he’s back, we can fix this. A truck door slammed. She never should’ve said anything. That look in his eyes— It nearly broke her. The front door opened, then closed. Keys jingled as they were hung on the hook. She wiped her tears and stepped into the front hall.

Empty.

 “Paul?” she called.

Silence.

A knock startled her. She opened the door.

Two police officers stood on the porch. “Ma’am,” one said gently, “we need to talk to you about your husband. May we come in?”

The Message

Ever since she moved in, Sarah heard weird noises coming from the attic. She debated going up there, but was hesitant. The landlord mentioned the attic floor was dangerous and she shouldn't go up there. But after a week of sleepless nights, she couldn’t take it. She grabbed a flashlight and charged up the stairs. The old door was easier to open than expected. She scanned the room and paused at a small table. On it, there was a cassette player. Curious, she pressed play. Her voice came on sobbing “Please don't leave, don't go up there!”. Behind her, the door slammed shut. 

Deja Vu

She padded down the dark hallway toward her bedroom, the rug, soft and cool beneath her feet. Half asleep, she passed her husband silent and expressionless. “Bathroom?”, She mumbled. He nodded and kept moving. Back in bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin, then froze. Her husband lay curled on his side, snoring softly. She grabbed his shoulder, waking him. 

“What?” he asked groggily. “Everything OK?”

“No, I just saw you down the hall”

He sat up, confused. “That's what you said yesterday?”

“Yesterday?”

“Yeah.”, he nodded, “and the day before!”