Whispered Prayers

by Alex Grayson

“IT’S SUCH A SHAME WHAT HAPPENED.” “They say it left him a bit… unhinged.” “Well, I can’t really say I’m surprised. I bet it would leave you a bit rattled too.” “Not to mention the scars. You know he has to remember what happened every time he sees them.” “That’s why he only comes to town once every couple of months.” “It’s such a shame, and a waste.” I put the can of cherry filling in my shopping cart and peek around the corner of the shelf. Three old ladies are at the end of the next aisle over, same position as me—sneaking around the end of their own shelves—whispering behind their hands. With the three of them in the way, I can’t see who they’re talking about. I step out further to try to get a look, but all I see is the backside of a man wearing a black-and-gray plaid shirt rounding the corner several aisles over. I shake my head, putting the whispers and my curiosity behind me. It’s not my business to know what or who they’re talking about. The last thing I want is to get caught up in rumors. I walk the aisles, glad to know this small market has all the ingredients I need for my mom’s cherry-apple pie recipe. Coming from a big city and having anything and everything just a few miles away, you’d think we’d have a hard time adjusting, but it’s been just the opposite. The town may be small, but it has all the essentials we need to live. Simple is why we moved here. Simple is what we need. Simple is hopefully what will make us all happy again. And the people have been ab...