Today, I’m thankful for a ten-year-old son who pointed out the man lying on the ground beside the bicycle and suggested a storyline. I’m also very thankful for our librarians, who know us by name, are always so patient with out crate of books, and who, from time to time, generously forgive our crimes against due dates. Not all library patrons are as fortunate as we…
Officer Spade pulled out his notebook. “Ms. Turner, you’ve been at the desk all morning, you say?”
“One never knows when a patron will need to find just the right book.”
“And you never saw what happened outside? Never heard the gun?” He held the image of the deceased out to her. “Never saw this man?”
“He… he was a regular.” Ms. Turner shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry, I just don’t like to see…”
“It’s okay, ma’am. I’ll be going now.
Four dollars, twenty cents. The fine bag laid neatly over Ms. Turner’s pistol.
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