Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
The younger woman offered a brief, tight smile that did not reach her eyes, her hand tightening around her car keys.
“We are very sorry for your loss,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper as she stepped past me.
“Truly,” she added.
Their footsteps echoed off the metal lockers as they hurried toward the exit, their voices fading as they reached the stairs.
I stood alone in the hallway, the folder still open in my hands, looking at the blue ink signatures on the bottom of each page.
The building was quiet now, save for the distant hum of the custodian’s vacuum cleaner in the library wing.
By nine o’clock, the air had turned cool, and the town square was mostly empty.
I sat on the green iron bench under the single working streetlamp, the metal slats cold against my legs.
Across the street, the high school sat in darkness, its brick facade looking like a fortress in the night.
The courthouse clock chimed nine times, the sound heavy and slow over the empty streets, and a breeze stirred the dry leaves on the sidewalk, sending them scraping against the pavement.
