The plane crash was horrific. All aboard were killed. Every relative of a dead passenger was lining up to sue the airline. Hundreds of thousands of dollars, perhaps millions, to get. Tom would have nothing to do with it. Though urged by family and lawyers to sue, he wouldn’t, couldn’t. Marianne was gone. The love of his life. No amount of money could replace her. He knew he would feel total self-loathing to even touch any substitute for her. The airline sent him a check for one hundred and sixty thousand dollars. He tore it up, then lit a flame to it. He looked out his living room window and saw the Jamiesons, who had lost their only daughter (Jana, aged 16) in the crash, drive off in their brand new car. It shone, it sparkled, but nothing like the sparkle of life and determination that had filled their daughter’s eyes. Tom knew he would never speak to them again. Everyone has a price, it was said. For Tom the only price was Marianne.

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s