The black clad girl shook with the sound, falling amidst the uncaring crowd. Fingers brush against skin and an elderly man bends and catches, joints creaking.
His face is kind, and worn of years well lived. Even then, the girl recoils.. But too late.
She sees a small boy, chasing butterflies as his parents look on..
The boy, older now, holding a lost tooth proudly..
A man, familiar now, dressed in sailor white and greeting the shore with a smile, gaze fixed on inkstained legs and a low-cut dress..
The same kind face, younger but unchanged, reaching to help the fallen barber, redness leaking from a nick about an ear..
The girl runs, hands clenched tight about scraps of paper.
She lays them on a wooden cabinet, all four in their place. A label reads "Ernest Whennerby"
The gathered sea of coats don't notice the body until someone trips.
