This argument was compelling, but the events seemed to be out of my control. I merely set them in motion. “Maybe you should ask your wife,” I suggested, “she is the one who is going to kill you.”

This seemed to strike a chord in him. “I can’t believe this is happening. My life has been utterly meaningless and now it is going to end over this. How pathetic.” I imagine his tone was very melancholy, but I obviously could not hear him (I already told you I’m not crazy, I don’t hear voices).

“You’re not pathetic,” I tried to reassure him, “I’m sure you have done plenty of good things in the past.” Truth be told, however, I had no information regarding his past, just present and future.

“The past is not important if I have no future.” While writing those words my hand moved the pen so utterly slow that it seemed as though his sadness was keeping him from conveying his thoughts at a normal speed. The shaking of the pen seemed to mimic a shaking that was present in his voice. It was the most terrible thing to witness.

I tried to convince him that everything would be okay, but I am fairly certain he knew that I was lying.

There was a long pause that contained the most dreadful sea of silence I had ever heard. I began to think that maybe he had done something drastic. Did he kill himself? Then what would happen to my story? I had almost forgotten the soothing sound of the pen rolling on the paper when my hand started writing again. “I must pay for my mistakes.” I could not help but think that the words were more of a blind submission to his fate then an acceptance of what was to come.

I crossed out our conversation and began writing the story again.

The man continued the tryst with his lover and ignored the needs of his wife while she continued to look after the family. She was not stupid, however, and she began to suspect her husbands actions. She hired a private investigator, wishing that her suspicions stemmed from an overblown paranoia, but it only confirmed her worst nightmare. After a few months of contemplating what her next move should be, she decided to slowly poison the bastard to death. It would look like an illness, and she could collect the insurance money. He died within a year. It was the only ending.