It was late, and she was getting worried. He hadn’t come home yet. He was out with his friends. She told him not to drink. But he’s slipped a promise here and there time and again. The door rang. She was relieved. As she opened the door, there was a man, who’d arrived in a small grey sedan, like that out of a 1970's factory, newly furnished, still presenting forth the euphoric aroma of that infamous new car scent. Odd enough, the windows were tinted more than the usual suburban transport, but that didn't bother her.
“Hello?” She said.
“Mrs. Hanson?” The stranger replies.
“Yes?”
“It is my- deepest regret to inform you that-you’re fiancé has passed away.”
“What?”
“He was last seen leaving a bar downtown with some of his friends. Their car spun out of control off I-95.”
“He had this in his pocket.”
The strange man handed her a note. What could it possibly be? As she unfolded the paper, she could see his name in cursive:
My sweet fiance,
I am sorry for this promise yet again broken. I sit here writing at the bar. I am driving home in about an hour. Dave has had too many. I sure can pick ‘em. I will see you soon.
-John
She thanks and leaves the stranger as she hops in her car to the I-95. She has found the exit, but as she approaches, she sees no sign of a crash; no tire marks, no chassis, not even a flare from a possible fire. She parks and looks over the nearby ravine, to which the man had described. There was nothing. Puzzled and curious, she returns home about 20 minutes later. As she searches for that one key on that large aluminum ring, she could’ve sworn she heard a door shut. She backed away and called the police.
“I’ll send a car out there. They should be there in about ten minutes. Just stay outside.” The operator said.
She couldn’t bear the wait. She walked inside, the dark, serene room. When she flipped the power button on, she found that all her furniture and home items were all gone. She searched her room. But, upon entrance, she found John, her fiancé, sprawled out across the floor, with no life at all.
Frightened half to death, she sprints out of the house as the police pulled up. With tears streaking down her cheeks, she describes her problem. The two officers search the house but find nary a person.
"That can't be," she said. "my fiance's body was right in he-"
But as she looks into the master bedroom, she doesn't see John's body; only a trail of blood leading to the window.
