Marty couldn’t believe it. Karen died, and it was the beginning of an eternal state of misery for him. In fact, the past six months were the worst he had ever experienced.

He received a call from his lawyer. The executor of his wife’s will was finally allowed by authorities to do his duty. Six months of waiting, wondering, it would now be over.

After arriving in New York, he took a cab to the house in Westchester. Nobody knew he was coming, so why disturb them? Marty always felt like he was intruding. It was his own family, but he still felt like a burden.

He still had his key from when he lived there years ago, before he met Karen. It still fit, and it always would. He would bring his bag up the steps to the room he knew would be his for the week, but stopped at the kitchen.

Female: “I swear to God, if that faggot Marty shows up I’m going to freak out!”
Male: “He won’t show. His lawyer said he’d take care of everything in his stead, so Marty has no reason to show up here.”
Female: “I hope you’re right. I can’t stand him, and he’s bound to pitch a fit if he found out what was going on.”

Stunned, Marty looked out the window. He was his brother, Oliver, standing facing the house. A blonde woman with a figure to die for had her back to Marty, but he knew who she was. He’d known for years, and he couldn’t believe of all the people in his life she would show up.

From his room, he called his lawyer. “I know,” he started. “I decided not to go to New York after all.”

He sat in his room, alone, realizing that the past six months had been a joke. His family never cared for him, his lawyer was out to scam him at every corner, and his deceased wife… she probably never loved him. Why else would she be sitting buck naked in the backyard plotting against him instead of the grave he put her in after the accident?