He Scheduled My Death for 8:03 AM

by Heather Sinclair

I found the file by accident. A PDF named 'Elara_Memorial_Final' on our shared drive. It isn't a draft. It's a finished obituary, detailing my accidental death by carbon monoxide poisoning. The date of death is tomorrow. The time is 8:03 AM. My husband Julian is a perfectionist. He restores vintage homes, stripping them back to their 'pure' state. I thought he was restoring me, too—fixing the cracks left by my sister's tragedy. But now I realize he isn't fixing me. He's editing me out. Tonight is our anniversary. He's cooking my favorite meal. He's bought the white lilies I love—the ones that smell like funerals. I have twelve hours to prove that my paranoia is real, that the vintage stove is a weapon, and that the man holding my hand across the table is waiting for the timer to run out.