Sunshine crept into the room, forming a white frame around the short dark curtain that barely covered the window. The glow around the darkened window reminded him of Malevich’s black square. He sighed. Vera would have laughed at this ludicrous thought. He sat at the edge of the bed, uneasy about his plans. The box was in the living room and he wanted to go, open it, and have a mystical experience.
He decided he would cover all the mirrors in the house. He didn’t want this to be a moment to face reality, but a time to flee from it. Should he change his clothes? He’d excused himself from work today and had put on his leisure clothes out of habit. But was this appropriate? Maybe it was. After all, most of their time together had taken place on weekends and holidays.
He began his task by shrouding each mirror with meticulous care. When he was finished, he dusted the ottoman Vera had loved to sit on.
He took the package and placed it carefully next to the ottoman. He opened the box and found another one inside. In the smaller carton was a Styrofoam head that held the wig in its place. He removed it and took a deep breath. It didn’t smell like her, but it looked perfect. He placed the wig on his carefully combed hair. He sat still and read a note on the invoice:
“According to your wishes, we have arranged your wife’s hair as in the picture you sent us.”
*This story was first published in “Thrice Fiction”, issue no. 18, 2016.