I was watering the plants when I saw the little note discreetly slipped under the door. It was one week after the funeral. I had done my best to keep any thoughts of Cynthia out of my mind. Thinking about her would just be opening up a can of worms, which I could not deal with right now. I had really loved her. I still did. If I wasn't already an atheist, I would certainly have become one after she died. How could any god have let someone so young and beautiful and plain good die? Any god we would want to worship anyway.
I should've thrown it away without looking at it. It would have saved me, not to mention everyone left in my life, so much grief. Of course, we can never tell what something so seemingly insignificant could all lead to. So I picked it up. In that familiar tiny scribble, it said “I'm not dead. Meet me tonight at Guido's Pizzeria. Tell no one.” It was signed C. Like a rock hit my heart. I sank down on the couch with my head in my hands, crushing the note in t