It’s so quiet tonight.
The rain and the chill have emptied the streets; the stragglers speak in hushed tones. All the shops have the radio on, and in the absence of customers the shopgirls listen glumly.
It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, as it has been, but it wasn’t good either. A young woman died today and is mourned. A young man died today and will not be mourned. It’s so much like that other time, when the whole country froze and listened. Except then it was inconceivably worse than it could have been.
There’s a point when tragedies run out of news. There is nothing more to know, but it feels disrespectful to think of other things. So, we keep listening, until the eyewitness accounts become a flat drone. The autopsies will explain nothing when they come.
A few more hours and it will be tomorrow.