this morning #158.

this morning, she was mentally thumbing through the latest issue of hypersexual widow quarterly, a hypothetical magazine focused on the last six months of her life. in that time, every last man for miles, from the young bartender to the old reverend, had insinuated one cunning thing or the other. her husband’s body wasn’t even cold yet but they were more concerned with hers. granted, she took care of herself way more than most of the big-ass women in this tiny-ass town, so a small part of her enjoyed the attention. it had been missing from her life for so many years that she feared her looks had faded. she wasn’t jaded. she just wanted to be desired again.