By Tom Shanahan
The frosted window can’t keep out the cold January wind, and my third glass of red wine does nothing to ease the numbing loneliness of ten months in lock-down. Memories of a winter night fifty years ago haunt me.
Where is Emily now? Does her laugh still shake the room? Does she still wear men’s cologne? Those arms that warmed me the night my mother died… Did she ever publish those poems she would read on Sunday mornings over runny scrambled eggs and coffee?
Nothing like drunk Googling on a cold winter’s night. Just one hit. The Maricopa County Coroner’s Office.
Very evocative. Great writing, Tom.
Oh, what a sad, sad twist.
Congratulations.
I’m sure this is quite a relatable piece at the moment. I love the ending, even though it’s very sad.
I wonder the very same things about my first lover, whose name was Royal Roy, I kid you not.
I google and brace myself for obituaries every time I deep dive into my memory and dredge out some forgotten name.
If you wrote the story, there must be some part of you, or someone you know, that uses Google’s imperfect magic to this purpose. It’s good to know. Thanks 🙂