My Husband

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This is another prompt from the writing.prompt people.  It's about a woman who is approached by the police and is told her husband is dead, but he is inside their house.

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A knock sounded at the door disrupting the peaceful atmosphere that filled my house.  I padded over softly to the door and opened it a crack.  Two police officers were standing in front of me looking solemn and holding their hats in their hands.

"Are you Mrs. Stevenson?" one of the officers asked me

"Yes I am.  What seems to be the trouble officers?" I ask opening the front door to let myself out and closing it behind me.

"I'm afraid we have some bad news to deliver ma'am," the other officer said placing a hand on my shoulder.  "Your husband is dead."

"That's impossible," I whisper shaking my head and moving the officer's arm away.  "It can't be true."

"Ma'am, you may not want to believe what we're telling you, but it's the truth," the first officer told me.  He looked at me with sad eyes, but I didn't want his pity.  He was wrong.

"No, you don't understand," I begin to say, "He's in the kitchen making dinner."

"Are you sure?" he sputtered out looking alarmed.  "We have his body down at the morgue that we need you to identify.'

"Yes I'm sure!"

"Ma'am," the second officer said slowly, "Do you feel as if you're in any danger?  Any at all?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"Well, we have a deqd body said to be your husband yet you say he's in the house.  Do you think it could be an imposter?" one of them asked.

"He couldn't be.  He hasn't left the house in four days because he has a cast on his leg and can't go to work."

"Can you come down to the morgue with us just in case?" the first one asked.  "We still need to identify the body, and it could still be your husband's."

"I'll come but only to prove to you my husband is alive," I tell them.  I open the door back to my house and gather up my purse.

"I'm leaving dear!" I call out to my husband as I close the door and get a grunt in response.

The ride with the police officers is a silent one.  I can feel they are on edge.  They still believe my husband to be the dead body they have, but I'm sure they're mistaken.  I'm sure all of this is just a big misunderstanding, but a part of me does wonder why they are positive it's my husband.

Once we get to the morgue, they lead me ti the back of the building and to one of those cubbies that hold the bodies.  They tell the mortician to open up the one with the body believed to be my husband.  The mortician pulls out the tray holding the corpse and removes the white covering.  Upon seeing the body, I let out a small gasp.

"What is it ma'am?  Is this your husband's body?" an officer asks me.

"I didn't want to believe it, but it is," I whisper out with my eyes slightly widdened.

"Are you positive?  Because if so, we will have somebody arrest the man in your home."

"Nah, I'm just pulling your leg," I tell them letting a chuckle escape.  "This is my husband's twin brother.  I know because of the tattoos he has.  My husband doesn't have any tattoos."

"Ok them," the officer says looking bewildered and confused, "I'm sorry for all the trouble Mrs. Stevenson.  Have a great evening."

I then proceed to go home and tell my husband about the ordeal with the cops.

"I'm glad that they believe your husband to be my dead twin," he says, "We can now finally be together."

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