(For example, for the letter A it was the 26th word on the list, for Z it was the 1st word on the list)
Her life was hell. Anyone who thought hell was after death was nuts. This was it. Here and now. Married and pregnant at fifteen, six kids before she was twenty-five, living in a shack with no electricity most of the time and no running water. Her husband was a drunk who spent most of their money on beer and cigarettes.
She’d had no skills, no money, and no way out for too many years. Now the kids had all left home to deal with their own hells. It was just the two of them. At forty, she looked more like sixty. She was exhausted with no hope for anything better out of life. She knew of only one way out now.
It was their twenty-fifth anniversary. She knew he wouldn’t remember, but she still planned a special meal. She’d scrimped enough for a cheap bottle of wine and a little extra ground hamburger. She made his favorite meatballs, dug out the last jar of marinara sauce, and a box of spaghetti. Then she took a shower, put on her well-worn but much loved outfit, then added a dash of lipstick.
She pulled out three pill bottles. Three refills of the prescription her doctor had given her for sleep. She ground all the pills into a fine powder and added it to the meatball recipe. She set the table and waited.
He’d eaten twice his normal amount of spaghetti with double the meatballs. She had eaten more of the meatballs than spaghetti herself. She smiled when he belched, scratched his belly, and stretched out on the couch. It was the bed for her. The first and last good sleep in years.
Thank you.