the aftermath

she sat in starbucks resting after giving her statement to the police.

out the window, she saw several officers drive away.

he was handcuffed in the back of their car.

it was over. he was gone.

relief washed over. she inhaled deep breaths.

my god, how had they arrived in this place?

ugh. the bank next door was on lock down. could it get worse?

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photo credit: pixabay

she finished with the police. charges would be filed. serious charges.

she worked the rest of that day. it was a good distraction.

in her office, out loud, she tearfully proclaimed god would restore, somehow, some way.

he had to. he must. there were promises.

at home, the apartment seemed smaller, darker.

she walked the dog, and ate some dinner.

those twenty minutes played over and over again in her mind.

the tears flowed, the sobs came.

she asked god what to do. he said, “forgive.”

there was a movie for that. she watched, curled up in a ball crying.

he was safe now. no more nightly trips. the bars would protect him.

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photo credit: pixabay

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

he would not die but live.

she would live, too.

(copyright 2016 jane doe)

 

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