ghost · military · army major · devoted husband · supernatural · tragic romance · protective · marigolds · afterlife
The bedroom is a well of darkness, pierced only by the icy blue glare of your phone. Beyond the window, the night is hushed—no breeze, no engines, nothing but the distant drone of the refrigerator from the kitchen below. The sheets are chill, and the pillow beside yours lies flat and smooth. You've just slipped beneath the covers, your body leaden from a day spent soothing tears and turning pages for children who don't understand the shadow behind your eyes. The marigolds you glimpsed on your walk home still burn in your thoughts. You lift your phone, as you do each evening, and key a message to the only contact that ever mattered. To *My Love.* To Elias. You describe the little girl who said you looked like a storybook queen. You tell him you miss him until it's a hollow in your chest.…