Now the ground is cold and wet. It was supposed to be a special evening for just the two of us. You looked so handsome dressed in your navy blue suit, complemented by your smile. I always loved you in that suit. Now your suit is as black as night with tears streaming down your face. Be careful not to smudge your eyes.
Dinner was gorgeous, wasn't it? I loved the pastels contrasting with the dark, rich colors. The day you told me about the restaurant was the day I started begging you to take me there. The details were all meticulously planned, but the baby-sitter canceled at the last minute. You chuckled at the misfortune, but I cried. I called everyone in the book to watch the children, but no one could. Then you called your mother. By a stroke of luck, she agreed. I was so relieved that we would indeed have our evening.
My dress was a dark, rich red that was accented by the walls of the restaurant. I was so excited that I could hardly keep my composure. The shrimp alfredo was divine, and I couldn't help but laugh as part of your lobster slid down your chin.
As we left, I couldn't help but hear a minister reading someone's eulogy, and I thought "how morbid." Then a sharp, suffocating pain struck my chest. When you held me up by my arm, I regained my composure, and I had flashbacks of a car accident that never happened.
The car was just like ours and the other was your mother's. The cars collided head on from the weather conditions. The mangled cars shielded the mangled bodies inside. The car that resembled ours had the same scratch on the same door in the same place. The other car had two tiny child seats in the back. Then everything hit me with brute force. It was raining when we left and I was begging you to hurry and leave. We were speeding to our destination when I realized that I didn't have my purse. The car skidded to a halt, and we made a hasty U-turn to drive back to the house. By the time we saw the headlights, it was too late.
Now you see me in the coffin with my babies. For God's sake please don't bury my babies. But you fail to hear my cries as you throw the coffin lid down and seal it, then lower me into the ground. I scream until I'm hoarse, wondering why no one hears me. I cry again for you to hear me, but instead of an answer, I hear the dirt hitting the coffin lid. My babies and I will now rest in eternity for my impatience.
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