Кен Бруен - In the Galway Silence

Then a third shot right between the eyes.

Lit a cig with, of course, the Zip.

The door of the house pulled open and I saw Kiki run shrieking down to the piece of garbage, got in the driver’s seat, and pulled away, no hurry.

I even turned on the battered radio and Jimmy Norman was reporting from, get this,

Catalonia!

If you believe in omens,

Or such drivel,

You might think it was auspicious.

I thought of Barca and Messi and the most glorious football club in the world.

Left the Jeep back where I found it, dumped the rifle in the Corrib.

Thought of the black swan, her beautiful plumage black as my heart.

I went home, made a hot toddy, it being November and the Feast of the Holy Souls.

Waited for the supercop to come get me.

He didn’t.

Nobody did.

Go figure.

Mainly, I couldn’t give a toss.

Next morning, I went to Annette Hynes in Corrib Travel, booked an all-expenses trip to Barcelona.

On my way home, ticket secured, I went to Dubray’s bookshop, looked at an art book featuring Gaudí.

I heard a female voice say,

“Dude, you down with Gaudí?”

Turned to face a young goth woman with all that kohl eyeliner.

Jet white face, serpent sleeve tattoo, and for a mad moment I thought Em / Emily / Emerald had come back from the dead.

Shook my head, went,

“And you are?”

She said in a very Brit, upper-class accent,

“Jericho.”

I nearly laughed, said,

“But of course you are.”

The Jericho saga would have to hold until I had my vacation.

Don’t you think?

From Little House on the Prairie .