Something Happened

Something Happened

Just outside the wrought-iron fence surrounding a house down the block, neighbors have erected a small shrine. A framed photo of a young man wearing a football jersey is attached to the fence, with a semicircle of flowers and tall, flickering votive candles on the sidewalk beneath. I have no idea who the fellow in the picture is, or what happened to him. Due to an electrical power failure downtown, the local newspaper hasn't been published for the last two days. Yesterday, while I was walking on the opposite side of the street, I saw a man holding a professional-looking video camera standing next to the shrine, while a TV reporter explained that "he never returned from a trip to see the fireworks on July fourth." Or something like that. The reporter, dressed in a dark business suit on a 90-degree day, kept repeating the sentence over and over, never quite getting it out perfectly, at least while I was within earshot. I kept walking, as I don't like such scenes. And I think I prefer the mystery to knowing what happened, anyway.