This must not be.

This must not be.

Normally, I don’t get home for lunch, but yesterday, I did. I picked up some groceries, brought them home, turned on the radio and began the process of fixing a little something. There was a sudden confusion on the normally quiet, steady talk radio show. They didn’t know if they were cutting to the news or to the impending press conference and everyone was stumbling over their words. The news was awful but there was a kind of journalistic glee behind the reporting of it. The questions were mounting about whether to pre-empt this or that program.
I admit that I wished they wouldn’t. I did not want to hear how many children were murdered, or how many teachers. I did not want to know if it was a single shooter or a pair. I did not want to know who he was or why he might have done it. I simply didn’t want for it to have happened.

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