we held our breaths praying it was the fourth of July on a humid summer day in August. Chicago.
the screeching of the black car. gone. a life lost.
A laugh missed, a smile missed. all gone in four seconds. no screams, no shots, the wailing of the ambulance, the police cars. the bodies taking into account the lost. yet no sounds from the beings.
They are dead. she said. pop..
gone goes the illusion of home. gone goes the dreams.
i hope they died happily. they died close to their goals and dreams. may they be mourned with laughter of joy and sadness.