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The Soprano


“I’m sorry Mrs. Stern…but I don’t bring you good news…” said the police officer, his eyes reflecting the heaviness of what he was about to tell me. I held my breath and felt a lump stuck in my throat.

“Just tell me where he is detective…” I said solemnly, tears began to accumulate in my eyes.
I feared the worst—what could be worse than having Michael disappearing? My mind began to run wildly on the possibilities, where was he, was he okay, was he kidnapped, did he just leave me, or…is he…is he dead? No…I can’t bear that thought! It can’t be possible, there’s no way that can be a possibility…nevertheless, I braced myself for the worst. “Did you find him?”

I heard the detective give me silence as a response, I clutched unto my dear husband’s photograph, praying, supplicating that he was alright, that they had found him alive and well.
The detective took a seat from the table in the kitchen and placed it in front of me, he sat down and lifted my chin to meet his eyes. His eyes spoke to me, sending me a hidden message “Be strong Juliana…”

“We haven’t found him; nothing is left from the accident, just his wallet.” He said as he gently placed Michael’s tattered wallet on my lap. I gasped as if I were drowning, he continued “Mrs. Stern, we’ve searched everywhere and we’ve got very little—if nothing to go on. His car is there, his belongings, everything is there, but the body isn’t…” my stomach began to turn flip flops, making me feel increasingly nauseous.

“We’ll continue searching, but…” the detective stopped. I gathered whatever I had left of my courage, “I understand detective…thank you.”
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