Hard Beat

The market front looks so benign, nothing like the horrible nightmares that flash through my sleep every so often now. The smell of death is gone, the dark stains of blood nonexistent, the fear riddling through my soul absent. All I feel is a bone-deep sadness when I take in the open windows with wares hanging all around the canopy and the cart out front displaying random items – there’s not a single thing to commemorate the loss of someone so damn important to me.