The headline had a name and an age, just those two things, which Keith knew meant that the person named was dead, which meant in turn that the name, which Keith recognized, which named a person Keith loved, had been vacated, which meant that Keith could not longer love that person in the same way, that he would be forced now to love that person in a different way, not through looks and words and reciprocated touches but through the tunnel of memory. Keith closed his eyes and opened them. Neither the name nor the age had changed. He turned his attention to another headline, one about the town council approving a delinquent tax drive. He had paid his taxes on time. He sighed with relief.
©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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