The Day After
Zack tried to sleep, if for no other reason than to escape the despair of being awake. Yet it was a fitful sleep. When finally he opened his eyes, he found that his breathing was erratic and that tiny beads of perspiration had formed a thin film over his flesh. For a brief moment he sat, propped up on one muscular arm, trying to ascertain which part of the past twenty-four hours was real and which was just a horrible dream. Habit directed his attention to the other side of the bed, which was, of course, cold and empty.
Then he remembered.
Yesterday he’d buried Craig. Tears, condolences and abundant wreaths. The whole affair had washed over him like a tsunami. Too much. It had all been too much. He’d spent most of the day wishing he’d stayed in bed away from the misery of o
