A Normal Man

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Although I couldn’t hear anything aside from the sputtering engine through my ringing ears, the sun a jackhammer blaring full tilt through my blurred vision, I swept frantically through the twisted wreckage of the front seat with my good arm for any trace of my darling husband who only moments before was filling my ears with his irritating drone—going on and on about his god-forsaken all-consuming work on the Hubble telescope’s revamped telemetry tracker (a project he grew so invested in that I was forced to seek the attention of other men as he whiled away the days writing code at the office–or so I assumed, even though for all I know he could have been wowing, wining and dining some Comp-Sci slut (if such a woman were to exist), and also assuming the very same man I married fourteen years ago, headstrong and naïve as I was when I fell in love with an nebbish, icy scientist, could actually look past his slavish devotion to his job)—and upon finding his lifeless body, a crushing guilt set upon me, especially the part of me which had cheated on him and lied to him, even having random thoughts that wished him dead during those long, frustrating arguments which led to empty nights alone in bed with a vodka tonic as my only companion, during the most trying years of our lifeless marriage, because I wasn’t a superwoman goddamn it, I had my needs too, but I certainly never wanted anything to happen to him, so you can imagine my relief when, as we’re being pulled from the wreckage by the handsome EMT, my husband still has a pulse, and when said EMT tells me on the way to the hospital that my husband will survive, but due to the extent of his injuries and lack of oxygen to the brain, his cognitive abilities may be somewhat impeded, and you can’t blame me for my momentary thought: finally my husband might be a normal man..

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