His wife turned cold. He touched her, hoping to die, at the least, maybe sleep.
He did not die and he still could not sleep. Her coldness did not dry him out inside.
He looked outside and noticed the street littered with other cold wives, demon hands holding them down in a web of roots sprouting from the underground.
Other husbands came and held him and each other close. The demons came again. They too held them close underground- just like their wives- until they all rooted then sprouted into a forever winter forest of dropping grief leaves.
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