Memories Monday -- Holy Homicide!

 It feels strange to be sitting at my desk, next to Margaret’s.   I can’t really concentrate.  Maybe if I write about it will help.

Yesterday, Church was buzzing with the murder.  They had Margaret in the prayers for the dead.  And a sermon about how horrible violence is.   I  feel terrible about Margaret and her family.   But it still doesn’t seem real. 

The general feeling was that it was a break-in gone bad,  which makes us all nervous.   I was the Queen of Coffee Hour once word got around that I’d known Margaret.  But I didn’t have much to offer except that even after all those years I didn’t have much to offer.

The cupcakes were a big hit.
 

I wondered what the library would be like today.  Would everyone be as excited as my fellow worshippers had been or would we be quiet, huddling together like a bereaved family?

Everyone came in quite soberly and sat down at their desks without the usual good morning banter.  Every once in a while someone would walk past Margaret’s desk, look at her chair, and then hurry on.  I wondered if they were thinking that they ought to say something to me, as if I had a special claim on Margaret since I sat next to her.  “Sorry, Charlie.”  When I thought of that, I started giggling.  Ever since those tuna commercials people have been saying “Sorry, Charlie” to me.  Unfortunately, Bill Cleveland, the head librarian, was walking by my desk at the time.  I must have looked guilty, because he patted me on the shoulder and said, “Everyone grieves differently, Charlie.”

I just nodded.