After the Waiting
by Birgitt Schuknecht
Even for me it's hard to ignore a dead body. But this one is different. Curled up into a ball, eyes closed, limbs relaxed he seems to be sleeping.
I pick up the piece of paper that lies next to him. It's not easy to decipher the words on it. Some of them are almost illegible. But after a few seconds I feel myself drawn into this. Knowing that this letter contains the last words of a dead man... who died because I wanted him to... I do not like to be referred to as "they", but then... how should he have known any different?
So there have been loved ones for him. The knowledge that killing a man makes a difference... is a pleasing thought.
I stumble over some words, "I lived with honour, Benny. And I am dying with reason. Is that what you would call a good death? I think it is."
Maybe it is, Detective. Maybe not. And with that thought I tear the letter into tiny pieces, letting them fall down on the dead body of Raymond Vecchio.
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