The Visitor

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Knock - knock.

The gentle rapping at the door roused Karen out of her evening nap. Yawning sleepily, she tried to flatten her messy hair and wondered who the visitor was. Trying to smoothen her wrinkled clothes in vain, she walked towards the door and opened it.

The visitor could have been anyone. It could have been her neighbour Mr. Warren, or her best friend Bethany, or it could have even been a lost stranger asking for directions. But what Karen didn't expect was to see her dead husband standing in front of her.

Her first instinct was to scream and run as fast as she could, but Karen remained rooted to her spot. Her wide eyes examined the man before her - he looked the same. Ben still had his curly hair, his chocolate eyes still sparkled with life and most important of all, he was still alive. Her husband, whom she had thought to be dead for three years, had returned home - still breathing.

"How. . .?", Karen gasped in shock as her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. This was not real, this couldn't be real. It was all a dream.

"Karen", Ben whispered.

She burst into loud sobs as she launched herself at her husband's open arms, her bottled emotions bursting forth like a fountain. Ben's touch, after years of absence, overwhelmed her as her heart clenched with both joy and doubts.

"Ben, oh Ben!", Karen cried. Silent, Ben just held her tighter to his bosom.

"What's going on, Ben? I thought you were. . . I thought you were dead!", she sobbed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry", Ben whispered as he kissed her forehead, "I know you have a lot of questions, but - but I really need you right now, Karen. I'll explain everything later."

"But if you are still alive, who was the man that I buried?", she asked. She couldn't comprehend anything that was happening around her. Was this some kind of trick? A conspiracy? What was real and what wasn't? If the man lying in the grave was someone else, where had Ben been all these years? And why hadn't he contacted her?

"Ben, I - "

"Ssssh!", Ben hushed her gently. Looking deeply into her eyes, he muttered, "I love you." Karen's breath hitched as she melted in his arms. She couldn't resist any longer. She replied, "I love you, too." Words spoken without meaning it, is like a dying blossom searching for one little ray of sunshine as it slowly withers and falls apart. But when one speaks with true sincerity , even three mere words can engulf you with a warmth so strong it fills you with an everlasting mirth that suddenly makes you feel invincible.

"I love you so much", Ben muttered breathlessly and crashed his lips against hers. The touch of their lips felt like a cool drop of water quenching their thirst after a long journey across the desert. A flame, that had lost its spark a long time ago, ignited once more and came back to life, overpowering the two beating hearts.

They somehow made it to the couch and began making love passionately. Karen had a lot of questions burning in her mind but she pushed them aside for a while. She could ask them later. Right now, she only wanted to love and be loved.

But soon after, the comforting heat of Ben's body lulled her to sleep and her eyelids slowly dropped down in exhaustion.

# # #

When Karen woke up the next morning, she was all alone. "Ben?", she called out in confusion. There was no answer. "Ben?", she called out again as she began to check every room of the house, but her husband was nowhere in sight. There was no trace of his presence. Had she been dreaming all along? Had it all just been a wishful dream? Was she delusional or just plain insane?

"Ben. . .", she whispered hoarsely once again. The only reply she received was silence. Of course, she had only been dreaming. Her husband was dead, lying six feet under the ground for three years. She was all alone, she would always be alone. Tears filled her eyes and slowly made their way down her pale cheeks which, just a few hours ago, had been rosy and full of life.

As she lay sobbing on the floor, there was a knock at the door.

Knock - knock.

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