Lingered

If I’d lingered in the grocery aisle twenty-seconds longer…

I’d be dead.

A bullet shot through the store killing the woman looking at tomatoes.

She’d been standing next to me, picking out squash.

We’d talked about our kids, playing soccer and not wanting to eat veggies.

She has a little boy at home.

He’s my daughter’s age, they had plans to play together.

I’d picked out my yellow squash and moved on.

Now her blood and brains are splattered over the tomatoes.

Red, so much red.

Don’t think I will ever eat one again.

Boom.

I turned the corner, dropped to the floor.

We all fell to the floor;

the man looking at meats-

the mother and child-

the teenage girls-

myself.

Staring at me.

Ashamed scared eyes of the man looked away.

Pleading eyes of the mother, hugging the child.

Child's eyes hidden from view behind trembling hands.

Scared girls eyes, stripping away their age.

I crawled around the corner, I had to know.

I could not leave her by herself, as tomatoes tumbled down,

I looked into her eyes as life drained away.

Her son’s name whispered on her lips.

Empty.

I could hear faint noises, from a distance;

child crying-

mother soothing sounds-

footsteps.

The blood and tomatoes pooled beneath her,

I crawled over and gathered her close,

rocking back and forth.

Holding her in my arms.

“Sister.”

Introduction