Excerpt:

"I opened the fridge and grabbed one of your Bud Lights. It was the only alcohol we had. The fridge was filled with takeout containers and Tupperware filled with Joann’s 'Sorry your husband off’ed himself' food. I really should go through the decaying food and throw it out, but right now I need a drink."

"When I was done my hands were shaking and I had seven bags full of you. I then went back into the half empty closet to my clothes. They had you all over them. Your hand on the arm of my purple blouse when we would kiss goodbye in the mornings. Your khaki pants touching my black dress pants when would sit on the couch watching movies.
My clothes were diseased, contaminated."

"'Well fuck it. I’m only here because the cops thought that I murdered my husband. I don’t even know why I’ve stayed so long. My alibi was true. I was at work,' she paused to make sure she had everyone’s attention. 'I hate what you’re doing here. If someone really wants to kill themselves, like my husband, they’re going to do it. They’re not going to call here. These people are just lonely assholes looking for sympathy when they should be out looking for friends because that’s what they really want.'
'That’s enough,' Keith said.
Susan stopped. She hadn’t realized how worked up she had gotten. Her head felt hot and her whole body was shaking. Finding it pointless to argue with some sucker for sympathy who would just pity her when that’s not what she was going for, she grabbed her coat and purse. Her phone rang one last time and before her boss could stop her she picked it up.
'Kill yourself!' She yelled before hanging up."