The story of an hour

Mrs. Mallard sat alone in her room, staring out the window at the world outside. She was a woman with a heart condition, and her sister Josephine and her husband's friend Richards had been careful to break the news to her gently: her husband, Brently Mallard, had died in a train accident. Mrs. Mallard was initially overcome with grief, but as she sat alone in her room, a strange feeling began to creep over her. It was a feeling of liberation, of freedom.

She was surprised by this feeling, but she couldn't deny that it was there. She realized that, with her husband dead, she would no longer have to live in his shadow. She would no longer have to be the submissive wife who did everything her husband wanted. She would be free to live her own life, to do as she pleased.

As she thought about this newfound freedom, she felt her heart race with excitement. She had always felt that her husband's presence was a weight on her, a constant burden that she could never escape. But now, with him gone, she was free. She could breathe again.

She stood up and walked around the room, reveling in her newfound freedom. She looked out the window again and saw the trees swaying in the wind. She heard birds singing in the distance. Everything seemed brighter, more vivid. She felt like she was seeing the world for the first time.

As she stood there, lost in thought, Josephine knocked on the door. Mrs. Mallard tried to compose herself, to hide the excitement she was feeling, but she knew that her sister could see through her. Josephine was worried that Mrs. Mallard was making herself ill, and she urged her to come downstairs.

Mrs. Mallard reluctantly agreed, and she descended the stairs to the living room. She saw Richards there, standing awkwardly in the corner. Josephine tried to make small talk, but Mrs. Mallard was lost in her own thoughts. She could hardly focus on what her sister was saying.

She felt a sudden urge to be alone again, to retreat to her room and savor this feeling of liberation. She excused herself and went back upstairs, where she closed the door behind her. She leaned against it, feeling the weight of the world lift off her shoulders.

As she stood there, she realized that she had never really loved her husband. She had gone through the motions of being a dutiful wife, but her heart had never been in it. Now, with him gone, she could finally be true to herself. She could finally be free.

She walked over to the window again and looked out at the world outside. She saw people walking down the street, going about their business. She saw a couple holding hands, and she felt a pang of jealousy. She wanted what they had: the freedom to be with the person they loved, without any constraints.

As she stood there, lost in thought, she heard a noise outside her door. She turned around and saw her husband standing there, alive and well. He had not died in the train accident after all.

Mrs. Mallard was overcome with shock and horror. All of her dreams of freedom had been shattered in an instant. She realized that she would have to go back to living the same life she had before, with her husband as her master. She felt like she had been trapped in a nightmare, only to wake up and find that the nightmare was still real.

She collapsed to the floor, weeping. Her husband tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away. She realized that she could never be truly happy with him. She would always be living in his shadow, always be subordinate to him.