Dear John

You’re home very late tonight, where are you?  Have you gone out with friends perhaps and forgotten to tell me?

Do you remember how in the early days, if you were just a little late home, I would be out walking the streets, looking for you, I’d be so worried.

Come in and sit down in your chair and I’ll make you a cup of tea.

Why is there that big pile of stuff in the corner of the kitchen?  It’s from the loft room, darling, where I’ve been clearing out a little – I hope you don’t mind.

You see there’s been a big mistake.

Someone died and we thought it was you.  But it must have just been someone who looked like you.

I’ve been visiting a grave – who knows who the guy is in there, but it’s clearly not you because you’re here with me, sitting in your chair drinking tea.

All a big mistake, John.  Can’t possibly be that you just dropped dead and left me alone.

I’ve been watching one of the films you recorded but never got to see.  The Wrong Man.  He gets cleared and everything goes back to normal, well except that his wife goes mad for a while.

When will you come home so we can carry on as before?

I think it’s all a mistake.  I think we buried the wrong man.

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