My husband, 42, di:ed unexpectedly a month ago.
Yesterday, his phone chimed.
It was a notification for a charge on his card.
The payment was for a hotel room, made just minutes earlier.
I quickly drove to that hotel address.
On the way, his phone rang. I froze when I heard the caller ID say: “Marlon – Work.”
Marlon was his boss. Or, I thought he was.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My hands were shaking too much, and I was too busy trying to understand how a dead man’s bank card could still be working—let alone booking rooms.
