#7: The Gravestone

Dear Sir-

You ran away with my wife three years ago. When she left, she took our substantial nest egg with her and I only hope that the two of you haven’t spent it all on whatever it is that you two did together. I don’t wish you any great degree of ill-will; I feel sorry for you.

You may realize this by now, but everything she ever told you was a lie. She had a very rare brain disease that was most likely linked to her psychological disorder in some fashion or another; she just couldn’t manage to tell the truth. If you hadn’t noticed, maybe this is coming as some kind of shock. She was one of only three people ever diagnosed. Without her medication, I knew she would only live three years.

How do I know she didn’t have her medication? I took it off the market. Really, a medicine only good for three people throughout history can’t be marketed. You see, she was a patient of mine before I fell in love with her.

But I am sorry for your loss. It must be all the greater, since her will gave back all the money she took with her. Her will also ordered the carving of this stone. Really, you are welcome to change it at your leisure now that you’ve read it. She was, at times, very dear; very sweet.

If you don’t change it, let me at least offer this:

Here she lies (still).

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