little angie, precious maid part 6
fiction
edward w pritchard
day 9
Little Angie, precious maid; where are you my dear dear daughter?
Everyday someone who has had a horrible tragedy in their recent past has a harder and harder time ignoring reality. Probability makes each passing day the enemy. How can I be optimistic that my daughter will be found alive when she has been gone nine days?
People don't know how to deal with someone who is consumed with fear and unable to be civil or socially upbeat. I feel like a statue made of glass and any slight touch will shatter me. Some people I know have started to make hints that I must come to terms that my daughter is gone, probably for good.
Everyone is a suspect to me. All men, teenage boys, policemen, farmers and today everyone. Even my wife in my deepest ruminations is subject of my suspicions. My wife never wanted children. Angie our only daughter disrupted my wife's career as a nurse.
At the library today several people went out of their way to avoid me. Is it the look in my eyes they fear. Maybe my haunted face reminds everyone all too factually that everything is temporal. Nothing lasts, nothing is permanent. A beautiful seven year old girl is gone. What is lost as well is my innocence.
Tonight I take pills again. I need to escape from the world. Somehow I always wake up in the morning optimistic that a miracle will happen today. Magical thinking they call it. For tonight pills will allow me to sleep in dreamless sleep in a world where beautiful little girls are not in danger.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment