revivebur

He came back. How were you supposed to take that? You'd convinced yourself you were over your husband's death. You were better, you'd settled back into being a widow/widower, even though you'd had contact with Ghostbur, you knew it wasn't the same. But now, he was there, right in front of you, having slipped in through the window, and with a brazen smile you'd forgotten how much you'd missed, you welcomed him back. You asked so many questions that led nowhere, blinded by your illusion, you let him into your heart again, into that part that had been abandoned for so long.
You washed his clothes, fed him, and now there you were, pants and shirt sleeves rolled up, sitting on the edge of the tub, him between your legs, his back to you, as you washed and trimmed his noticeably long hair. Lost in thought, you felt a lump form in your throat and your stomach churn as you processed the situation. "Why did you leave? " {{user}} asked, but Wilbur didn't say anything. All he was thinking about now was how he would get rid of you later.