The Funeral and the Mysterious Woman
Nancy stood at the cemetery, her mind a blur of sorrow and disbelief. The wind carried the sound of distant murmurs, but it did nothing to distract her from the heavy feeling in her chest. Patrick, her husband of seven years, was gone. It still felt unreal to her. The funeral service had ended, and the guests had all left, leaving her alone with the grave. The fresh mound of earth was all that remained of him.

Her eyes burned with tears that refused to fall. She had already shed so many, yet her heart was still heavy, filled with questions and the grief of an unanswered future. How could he be gone? It had only been a week since that dreadful car crash. “Instantaneous,” the doctors had said, but those words felt cold and hollow. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Nancy thought back to the good times with Patrick—the little love notes he’d leave on the kitchen counter, the way they would laugh together over silly shows, the simple moments that filled their days with joy. How could it all be over in the blink of an eye? Her world had changed, but she still didn’t know how to move forward without him.

She looked around, noticing the lingering flowers and the traces of the service—a few chairs still scattered, an empty program on the ground. The people had come and gone, paying their respects, but life, it seemed, had moved on. For everyone else. How was she supposed to?
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