The thing about rain is nobody can see you cry. Alice trudged along the cinder path with her shoes full of water and her heart in pieces. He was dead. This time. They had showed her his broken body, then given her his wallet and his phone.
By the time she got home she had cried herself dry. The watchers saw her put her key in the lock and the defeated set of her thin shoulders.
It was a good job they couldn’t see the figure that awaited her in the dingy room.
“You didn’t really think I was dead…”