Small Town, Giant Mouth

“You didn’t hear?” My best friend for as long as I could remember exclaimed as I found her in the busy airport. Well as busy as you get when you fly to somewhere even the pilots have a hard time finding. The Valley. The epitome of the perfect small town. But where there’s a small town, there is gossip.

I’m not even 30 minutes into landing when the newest piece of gossip hits me.

“No, what’s up?” I say as we walk to her car. She parked on the other side of the parking lot. Sometimes she doesn’t think logically. I’m bound to have a lot of crap it’s my first time back in about five years and lugging it around isn’t the greatest plan. She, on the other hand, seems to float to the car.

“Do you remember that one guy we went to middle school with? He had blonde hair.” She honestly described most of the people who lived in The Valley. I shook my head and beads of sweat started to pool on my hairline.

“Well, he was involved in a murder/murder/suicide!” She said with a jump and landed right in front of me. She startled me so I dropped my bags.

“That’s awful! I feel sorry for the people close to him and his family.” I said genuinely because I didn’t want to involve myself.

“Whatever.” She said as she walked the rest of the way to the car and got in the drivers side. I had to knock on the trunk before she opened it. As I got in she said, “Right before he did it, he came into the bar and asked about you.”

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