"I-I left you a note." Sputtered Mr. Murry, "I-I left i-it on your desk, in c-case you d-didn't see. I'm sorry, Anne," Mr. Murry sighed, "but when a story comes to mind, I must write it!"
"I saw the note..." Mrs. Murry said, and hung her head sadly, "but I have some terrible news. My Aunt Elizabeth has died."
"Fantastic!" cried Mr. Murry, but later regretted it.
"W-well, Your Aunt Elizabeth, you see, she gave me great inspiration. But I didn't want to write about it, because it felt like I was stealing something of hers. But now that she's dead, I can!"
"You will not be happy that she's dead though!"
"I'm not happy about that. Also, are we in her will?"
"Well, what can I saw? Elizabeth was quite rich."
"We should be getting home."
So Mr. Murry followed his wife all the way home. A look of happiness was on the mans face, which shouldn't have. Aunt Elizabeth, who was now in heaven, looked at Mr. Murry sprinting down the streets like a young child.
"How foolish." Aunt Elizabeth said from above, "He couldn't care less about me, could he?"
An arm wrapped around Elizabeth, and Elizabeth caught her breath. She would have to get used to seeing her husband (who had died a long time ago) again. But it was a good thing. "Oh Liz. You make me laugh." The husky voice said, making Aunt Elizabeth forget about Mr. Murry, and laugh at her husbands remark dreamily. She was sort of happy she had died.