It’s quiet. For some reason, that makes me sad. Normally I’d pay good money for the people around me to shut up for a few minutes. Talking about their offspring or last night at the pub. Reminiscing about glory days never to be seen again. It’s like if they don’t have attention paid to their insignificant little lives, they’d cease to exist all together. Like most things, now that I’ve got what I wanted, what I wanted has changed.
It’s quiet because nobody knows what to say. They don’t know what to say, because there isn’t anything to say. The newspapers have it covered. Tragedy. Terror. Assassination. They only use the word assassination when it’s someone important, but then, that’s exactly what this is. It could not, in fact, be more important.
Yesterday a man brought a gun into a place that he wasn’t meant to. He used the gun, as one would, to end a life. Why he chose to end that life, in the end, I’m afraid we’ll never know. The man is what you’d call, no longer available.
A human life is a miracle that should be cherished. As far as anyone knows, it’s an anomaly, not found anywhere else in the universe. Yet, we go out of our way to ignore that fact every day. We think ourselves more important than those around us. That disregard, for another human being with a different point of view is all it took. And now, our king is dead.