The forgotten letter

It had been five years since she was gone. He still remembered that damn day over and over again. He still hadn’t managed to start living again. What was the point if life was all about one person? Just one. He woke up, went to the kitchen, made himself a strong coffee, and stared at the dusty curtains. Unfortunately, work hadn't been canceled, so he was forced to pull himself together and go sit at the office computer, wearing the same old pants with holes in them Exactly five years ago, he’d been a cheerful man who loved his job and encouraged his team, but one event turned everything into a nightmare. All the colors faded, the fairy lights never lit up again He began to hate his job and mutter about how awful it was. He hadn’t even noticed how he’d become someone everyone avoided. Ben became a recluse. The only thing he allowed himself as entertainment was a can of beer on Saturday nights. He and Elizabeth loved to sit on the couch and listen to her rave about some character. If only he could turn back time and remember all their names — maybe he could hold on to those happy moments a little better. Suddenly the doorbell rang — its ear-piercing squeal. Ben hadn’t heard that sound in a long time. No one ever came to visit, and his mail was always dropped straight into the box outside. Of course, he'd gone to the clinic a couple of times when he was feeling particularly uneasy, but Ben tried to avoid people. The doorbell rang again. Apparently, someone was too eager to talk to him. Resigned, Ben walked to the front door—the very place where he'd last seen Elizabeth alive. He tripped over his shoes but opened the door anyway. The postman stood there, holding a letter. "Hello, this letter is for you. We offer you our sincere apologies for its late delivery." "Okay, goodbye." Ben took the letter from the postman's hands and, mumbling, walked back to the kitchen. He didn’t want to read it right away — it was probably some nonsense about the water, electricity, or gas bill.He could deal with that a little later. He packed his things and went to work. Returning to the kitchen table, he stumbled upon an envelope. After hesitating for a minute, he opened it. Inside was a black-and-white ultrasound photo. The date: 2010.10.10, and the time: 12:30. Just before he arrived home on that fateful day. He examined it more closely. At the bottom, written in a familiar hand: "I'm pregnant! We're going to have a full family, Ben!" And at the end, a small heart was drawn. The kind only Elizabeth could draw. Ben hadn't known his wife was pregnant. Most likely, she wanted to give him the same joy that day. But why did he only receive the letter now? If he had received it sooner, perhaps everything would have been different. Perhaps she would still be alive. Maybe he would have run outside after her. Maybe everything would have been fine... These thoughts made Ben uneasy. His heart was constricted with pain. His chest tightened; breathing grew harder. "Oh, damn. Medicine!" He forgot to take his medicine again today. He'd been really forgetful lately. He was glad he'd calmed down. Ben went to bed and fell asleep quickly. Tomorrow he'd have to endure another day—one more, without her.

***

In the middle of the night, he woke up to a crash. Something was pounding on the roof, but when the wind died down, the noise disappeared. That's why he didn't go outside, because there was no point in fixing it anymore. On his way to bed, he noticed something mysteriously lying unopened on the table He didn’t remember leaving anything there. But for some reason, he wanted to find out the secret of this letter right then. He opened the letter with a familiar motion. A faint red glitter burst out — the same ultrasound photo. "That's weird. I've seen this picture before. Did I really get two letters and not notice?" He rubbed his forehead with his palm and went back to bed. He hadn't slept well tonight, not to mention he couldn't close his eyes at all. He kept hearing something in the room. He felt like someone was sneaking glances at him. It was already five in the morning. Unable to bear the torture, he stood up. As soon as he bumped into the chair next to the bed, something scurried to the other corner of the room. Ben grabbed the broom he'd forgotten to put away and headed toward where it might be. The closer he got, the louder the snorting grew. "Where the hell did a cat come from?!" he asked himself out loud, shoving the broom behind the chair to chase out the intruder. The sound grew louder — a wet, raspy snort and more frightening, but the man wasn't afraid. As soon as he touched its tail, the animal immediately lunged at him. He didn't have time to jump back, so a deep scratch appeared on his arm, and the cat scurried to another corner. "Damn it!" he hissed in pain, clutching the wound with his palm. He headed to the kitchen for the first aid kit. For some reason, it wasn't in its usual place. Blood was already dripping from his arm, so he began to rinse the wound under running water and pressed it with a towel he found near the stove. Ben turned around and noticed the letter, lying on the table again and apparently sealed.