Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

“I loved my wife,” Nelson said, and anything else Wallace had to say died
on his tongue. “She was … vibrant. A spitfire. There wasn’t anyone like her
in all the world, and for some reason, she chose me. She loved me.” He
smiled, though Wallace thought it was more to himself than anything else.
“She had this habit. Drove me up the wall. She’d come home from work, and
the first thing she’d do was take off her shoes and leave them by the door.
Her socks would follow, just laid out on the floor. A trail of clothes left
there, waiting for me to pick them up. I asked her why she just didn’t put them
in the hamper like a normal person. You know what she said?”
“What?” Wallace asked.
“She said that life was more than dirty socks.”
Wallace stared at him. “That … doesn’t mean anything.”
Nelson’s smile widened. “Right? But it made perfect sense to her.” His
smile trembled. “I came home one day. I was late. I opened the door, and
there were no shoes right inside. No socks on the floor. No trail of clothes. I
thought for once she’d picked up after herself. I was … relieved? I was tired
and didn’t want to have to clean up her mess. I called for her. She didn’t
answer. I went through the house, room by room, but she wasn’t there. Late, I
told myself. It happens. And then the phone rang. That was the day I learned
my wife had passed unexpectedly. And it’s funny, really. Because even as
they told me she was gone, that it had been quick and she hadn’t suffered, all
I could think about was how I’d give anything to have her shoes by the door.
Her dirty socks on the floor. A trail of clothes leading toward the bedroom.”
“I’m sorry,” Wallace said quietly.
“You don’t need to be,” Nelson said. “We had a good life. She loved me,
and I made sure she knew every day I loved her, even if I had to pick up after
her. It’s what you do.”
“Don’t you miss her?” Wallace asked without thinking. He winced. “Shit.
That didn’t come out like I meant it to. Of course you do.”
“I do,” Nelson agreed. “With every fiber of my being.”
“But you’re still here.”
“I am,” Nelson said. “And I know that when I’m ready to leave this place,
she’ll be waiting for me. But I made a promise that I’d watch over Hugo for
as long as I was able. She’ll understand. What’s a few years in the face of
forever?”