Do Not Disturb

by Freida McFadden

And my husband is still lying dead on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood.

I’m not dead. Did you think I was? That I’m some corpse my husband propped up in front of the second-floor window to frighten his guests? I’m not. I’m very much alive. And I’m afraid my husband is a murderer.

Maybe we used up all our happiness. Maybe everybody only gets so much.