MicroHorror

Richard dreamed of her. Rachel died less than a month ago. Yet she visited him often that way. He woke with teary eyes. Her framed picture smiled softly at him from the dresser.

His son, Shane, cried from the next room. The cry that doesn’t quell easily. His mother was gone, after all. Ron slid off the bed and wiped his wet eyes.

Shane’s cries softened and turned to laughter. Richard hastened to his son’s room. A waft of Rachel’s scent was at Shane’s bedside. Shane met Richard with his toothless smile. Richard hugged Shane, knowing everything would be okay.