by Thom Simonson

Created on: April 27, 2010

Janice needed to escape the mourners buzzing around her like flies.  After the funeral they descended on the house like a plague and their polite, guarded sympathy only lasted through the first round of hor d'oeuvres.  Now she was swarmed with questions about her mother's death.  

She grabbed onto any task that would provide a diversion but as people filled the house escape routes were dwindling.

"So," her cousin said, finally cornering her in the kitchen as Janice was making coffee, "how are you doing?"  Carla was generally considered the loud mouth of the family and despite how infrequently they saw each other in recent years, Janice was closer to Carla than her own siblings.

"Carla I'm," Janice stopped mid-sentence.  It was a momentary pause and anyone other than Carla probably wouldn't have noticed. "I'm fine," she finished.

"But," Carla prodded.  

"No Cee, really.  I'm okay."  When Janice found the empty milk carton in the fridge she leapt at the opportunity to get out of the house.  She had to make a conscious effort not to sprint to the front door as the questions circling the room assaulted her again.

"Didn't anyone see anything?  Was it difficult being out of town when it happened?  Are they sure it was a hit and run?  Did she suffer?  Do the police have any leads?  Why was she walking alone?  How long was she in a coma before she died?"   

Janice's brother hadn’t noticed her from his place on the porch and turned with a start when the screen door slammed.  He scowled at her then took another drag from his cigarette.  “Those things are going to kill you, Kurt,” she said stepping down from the porch.  He mumbled in agreement and took another drag.  “I’m going to Willer’s.  I’ll be right back,” she said looking over her shoulder at him as she walked away.  

She paused a moment next to her car and raked her caramel hair to one side with her fingers.  Then she walked to the end of the driveway and turned up the block.  She hadn’t walked the road from the house to the store since she was twelve years old.  Under other circumstances she probably would have stopped to change into sneakers but, the relief of being away from the house was well worth the ache in her arches.

She slowed down as she passed the chain link fence lined with trees.  Near the end, the fence was sheered from

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