Concerns at Night

A man awakes in his darkened bedroom to find his wife tugging at his elbow.
“Wha- … what? What’s wrong?” he says blearily. He can barely see her in the dimness.
“Honey … if I were to die and you remarried … would you sleep with her in our bed?” she asks him anxiously.
He turns and looks at his bedside clock … 3:14 a.m. … then turns back to her.
“Hon … can’t this wait? I mean … what-“
“Please,” she says. “I need to know.”
He thinks about it for a moment, gathering his muddled thoughts.
“Well … it’s a pretty new bed … we’ve only had it a few years so … I suppose so, yeah.”
She considers this, then squeezes him arm again.
“And my clothes? What about my clothes? Would you … would you let her wear my clothes?”
He glances toward the large walk-in closet, then turns back to her, a little exasperated.
“I dunno, hon … maybe … you have a lot of clothes.” He sighs. “If they fit her and she wanted to, better than letting them go to waste, I guess.”
She pauses again for a moment, taking this in.
“And my golf clubs? Would you let her use those?”
“No,” he replies. “She’s left-handed.”


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