Every time I shower I stare at the marble walls, finding pictures in the swirls like shapes in the clouds that blow by on lazy summer days. On Friday night, the harmless creatures and happy faces I usually see turned into a masked man with a gun. No matter how hard I tried not to look, I kept coming back to that swirl. The events of the day having left an indelible mark on me–on us all. I like it better when I see unicorns.
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