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dirt fc This writing was accepted for publication
in the 84 page perfect-bound issue
of Down in the Dirt magazine

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Farewell, My Love

Timothy N. Stelly Sr.

    “What a wonderful meal,” Milburn Hofstetler said as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his distended belly. “I guess we’ll end this night, our twenty-third anniversary, with a bit of lovemaking?”
    Seated across from him was his wife of twenty years, Gladys. She noshed on the remnants of a piece of carrot cake as her husband silently read the slip of paper. Milburn hated it when his wife pretended not to hear him. He kept his displeasure to himself and broke open the fortune cookie on his plate.
    Gladys looked up at him and saw his brow furrow, but Milburn’s eyes stayed riveted to paper. She set her fork down when she saw that his hands started to shake.
    “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” The excitement in her voice was unmistakable.
    “Read this.” He passed the paper across the table.
    She read it and looked around the room. The other diners were locked in on their food. The restaurant employees were occupied with carrying out their assigned tasks. Milburn yawned and as he tried to stand, he pitched forward and landed face-first into the bread crumbs, chewed fat and salad remnants that littered his plate.
    Millie perused the slip again. It read: “The meal you have eaten will be your last. You will die within two minutes after eating it. Have a nice day.”
    The waiter came over and Gladys leaned forward and whispered to him, “He thought I was joking when I told him I’d rather sell my soul to the devil than stay married to him for another year.” She looked up at the stunned waiter and said, “Check, please!”



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