This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Muffintop_Neurospicy on 2024-09-20 17:43:48+00:00.

I can’t take this thought out of my head. I know, I know, it’s not my life and it shouldn’t concern me, plus I have a lot more to think about that relates directly to me and not my neighbor - Mr. Robert’s - and his wife. But I can’t understand it… Why does he keep her around?

I swear I have a life and my own worries, I’m not the kind of woman who stares at the window commenting on everyone’s lives. But with this couple… it’s different.

For starters, Mrs. Roberts… Well, she’s a cold woman. I understand some people stay around, or keep others around, for the love, the companionship, the cuddles, the warm touch, the sex… I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know if they have sex but God, I also don’t want to find out, or even dwell on the thought any longer. Jesus, I hadn’t even considered that until now. But anyway, it’s not like she provides any of that. As far as I know, at least (dear God, take this image out of my mind).

Other people want someone to share the chores and the budget. Again, not the case. He does everything, both around the house and to her. From washing the dishes to combing her hair. She doesn’t have a paycheck either (how could she?) so that’s also a no-no. She’s really just lying there.

So again, why?

I’m probably the only neighbor who knows she’s at home. Nobody else would even imagine that. No way.

I happened across the finding one day when I was delivering a box that was left at my porch by mistake. It was for Mr. Roberts. I found it odd to have a delivery, since I wasn’t expecting anything, so I checked the label. “Kenneth Roberts”. I see. New delivery guy, happens now and then.

I picked up the box and crossed the street, heading towards my neighbor’s house. I knocked and the man opened promptly, with a smile. You know that warm smile a man in his 70s gives when someone comes to visit? That one. So yeah, I greeted him, he greeted me, and I explained I had received his delivery by accident. Mr. Roberts was extremely grateful, to an extent that I remember wondering if it was his very own soul that was delivered in that box (who the hell cries tears of joy when someone returns their misplaced Amazon purchase?).

The man asked me if I’d like a cup of tea - “after all, it’s the least I can do to repay your kindness” he said. I told him it was really no big deal, but he insisted. “I also baked some chocolate cookies, if you want to try them”. I have to admit, I’m a sucker for cookies, and Mr. Roberts’ chocolate cookies were renowned for their magnificence at potluck all over the neighborhood. I had to say yes. Low blow, Mr. Roberts, low blow.

As I was having some tea and cookies, my eyes wandered across the kitchen, to the door leading up to the living room. The door was half open and that’s… That’s when I saw Mrs. Roberts sitting on the sofa, in front of an evening TV show with an overenthusiastic host talking about calcium supplements or something like that. My eyes widened.

Mr. Roberts followed my gaze and gasped. He rushed to close the door, but as he did I blurted out “is that your wife?”. He paused for a moment, deer in headlights, unsure what to do. Then he sighed. “Yes… That’s my wife. Please don’t tell anyone she’s here”.

I didn’t know what to say. As I’m writing this, I’m still wondering how I made it this far without losing my mind or ever telling anyone. I stared at him for what felt like an eternity. I couldn’t believe it, I couldn’t understand, and after 5 years, I still can’t.

All I could tell him was “But… But you killed her… 25 years ago”.