The Ghost of Her Perfect Husband

The first day after I died, my wife brought her high school golden boy back to our house.

They made out in our bedroom, ate the prime ribeye steaks I had bought for her, used my computer, and spent my money online.

When he asked, "Where’s your husband?"

My wife replied, her voice cold and dismissive, "Always working. He's on some stupid business trip. I don't even know where he is."

She had no idea I was dead.

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I had been rushing back from a business trip, driving through the night to surprise Clara for her birthday.

Then came the headlights. The crash. I died instantly.