William Graves

William Graves was much too busy to die today. He was just two weeks away from making Gloria Rose his wife. The two were a fine young couple. But not now. Not today. Today was the day that ended any plans for the future laid together by William and Gloria.  


For the time being, I am the only person who knows that William will never return home to his fiancee. That William will never again show up for work. That his poor mother who suffered to push this wretch into the world in the first place, continued to suffer to allow this fool to survive and thrive in a world that would place no more importance on his being than it would to clean the excrement from a dog’s ass off the bottom of its shoe, would never again welcome her son home for holidays nor would she receive his weekly phone call home.  


No.  Not now.  Not after today.  


Here I am. With my auto-pilot breathing. My unrequited love. My plans intact. My recalling the memory – my – memory of William Graves. My regret that Gloria Rose will worry when William fails to call, fails to come home to her. When she has to call in a missing person’s report. And weep when William, weeks from now, has yet to call or return to her, and with no explanation. No news from William. No news of William. 


No. Not after today. Today is the day William got the literal kind of cold feet.  


This morning, William woke as usual. Readied himself for work.  Maybe he kissed Gloria goodbye. Got into his practical black Subaru legacy at 6 am.  He cautiously backed out of his driveway and drove away for work.  A thing he’d never have to do again. No. Not after today.


Here I am. Keeping record. My own historian. I am alive. Too busy to die just like everyone else. Like William was. I was much too excited to sleep. Much like many kids are on the night of Christmas eve. I didn’t sleep. So I didn’t wake. No. Not today. Today I was ready. Today was the day I granted Mr. Graves his leave of absence

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