What a weird dream...

He switched the station and looked down at the cup of juice in his hand.  He swirled it around and then took a sip.  He rolled his eyes.  It was warm.  It was so hot out the ice had melted and the drink had warmed up.  It was so hot out he was sweating just sitting down.  He watched as the talk-show host prattled on about something that was of no importance.  There was nothing good on the television.  The room smelled too.  It smelled like week old Chinese delivery, and possibly a mixture of old pizza and bad milk.  The windows had stayed closed, the blinds drawn, the only light coming in through the skylight overhead.  But it was so caked with dirt and muck that it barely let in any light anymore.  He looked down again.  There were stains on his sweatpants...they probably smelled a bit too.  His shirt stank for sure, though it had fewer stains; mostly it was just wrinkled and squashed, a few holes in it here and there.  But he really didn't care.  It didn't much matter what he looked like.  He hadn't left his house in over a week.  He hadn't even answered the phone, and there were countless messages beeping for his attention.  His voice box was full he was pretty sure.  But he really didn't care at all.  No one had come to visit him...at least not that he knew of.  He sort of tuned out any sound other than the television, and his door was padlocked.  But obviously no one cared, or they would have tried harder to see if he was alright.  But hey, he didn't care.

He woke up with a start and looked around the room.  It was clean.  He squinted as bright sunshine shone in through the window, which was now open with the blinds drawn back.  Fresh air streamed in and a fan was set up across the room, helping to keep the air circulating.  The smell had been much reduced, and was now replaced by the slight smell of lavender from a purple candle that was lit on the small table next to the couch.

His cloths were the same, still stained, wrinkled and ripped.  He sat up.  The television was off and he heard someone in the kitchen.  He walked towards the noise of dishes being moved about and entered through the doorway.  Standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes and humming quietly to herself was his wife.  She was dressed in one of her short, low cut summer dresses with the flowery pattern.  She had flat bottom shoes on and her curly, brown hair was hanging loosely around her face.  She looked up when he walked in and smiled at him.

"Look who finally woke up!" she said playfully.  He looked puzzled.  She cocked her head to the side.  "What's wrong honey?  You look like you've see a ghost."

"Are...you...you a ghost?" he asked frightened.

"Silly...what are you talking about?"

"You're...you're dead...I saw you...you were dead..."

"Do I look dead to you?  Honestly...you must have been having a bad dream is all!  I'm perfectly fine, standing right here in front of you!"  She dried her hands and walked up to him and kissed him on the lips.  

"You feel real enough..."

"Of course I do, you silly boy...but goodness, you need to brush your teeth and take a shower baby, you're smelly."  She rolled her eyes and tapped him on the nose and went back to the dishes.  

He turned and went into the bedroom.  He undressed and stepped into the shower.  He washed up, shaved, and brushed his teeth and then put a pair of clean jeans a t-shirt on.  He looked at himself in the mirror before he left the room.  He looked much better now.  He went back to the kitchen.  His wife was now standing at the counter chopping vegetables for soup.  He walked up behind her and put his arm around her and began kissing her neck gently.  

"I'm sorry...I guess I had a dream and was just a little groggy still..." he said in between kisses.

"Obviously!" she said with a laugh as she turned and kissed him.  They kissed a bit more and then she looked at him, still smiling happily.  "What shall we do today?"

"I don't know...maybe go to the park?  How about a picnic?"

"Oh good choice...we haven't been on a picnic in a while!  Let me finish getting the soup ready for dinner tonight, then I'll pack us a lunch and we'll go."

"I'll go pack up the car?"

"Sure!"  she turned back to the soup and he gave her one last kiss on the cheek before going out to the garage to grab the picnic supplies.

As he loaded up the car a man in a dark suit approached him.

"Mr. Gable?" the man said.

"Yes?" he replied turning to face the man.

"May I ask what you're doing?"

"...I'm going on a picnic with my wife...who are you?"

"Detective Rice with the Branson PD.  Why don't you come with me a moment."

"Why?  What did I do?" he was starting to feel nervous...something didn't feel right.

"You've done nothing...I just would like to talk with you."

"We can talk here..." he said.

"Who's there honey?" asked his wife coming out of the house.

"A detective Rice, he's with the police...I'm not sure what's wrong..."

"Who are you speaking to?" asked Rice.

"...My wife..." he said looking from his wife to Detective Rice.

"Mr. Gable...your wife...she's dead..."

"What?" he said almost laughing.  "She's right here!  Is this some sort of joke?  Alright, who put you up to this, buddy?"

"Mr. Gable...your wife died a week ago...no one has heard from you since...your neighbors said you were still in your home...but we've been keeping an eye on you...your sister is worried about you..."

"No...my wife...she's right here...honey, tell him you're right here..." he said turning to his wife.

"I'm here Detective Rice...I'm as alive as you are!" she said with a look of disbelief.

Detective Rice looked at Gable as he continued to talk to thin air.  The man was crazy.  A week of solitude after his wife's death had sent him over the edge.  Rice had seen this happen once before, and this was just as sad as the first time.  

"Mr. Gable...please just come with me...you can go on a picnic with your wife when you get home..."  Gable looked at Detective Rice and then said goodbye to his wife.  He kissed the air and then followed Rice to the car across the street.  Rice put him in the front seat and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Bye honey!" called Gable from the car as they pulled away. "I'll be home later, I love you!"