After the Shooting

A photograph of a puddle with a rainbow from gas or oil.I leave the hospital, happy to be rid of the dying, past imposing grey buildings with institutional windows, neon blue, showing patient rooms and neglected, thirsty plants. Outside, air conditioners drip, potholes hold stagnant water swirling with rainbows of gasoline. Buses lumber, brakes cry, exhaust belches. I left my husband in the ICU, sleeping. Nothing to do but wait. A metal door bangs shut. I leap. In a storefront window, I spot my reflection—face, eyes, lips. I crinkle my nose. “You’re the same as yesterday,” I say. But no. Everything’s changed; the entire city is holding its breath.



Andrea Marcusa‘s writings have appeared in The Gettysburg Review, River Styx, River Teeth, New Flash Fiction Review, Citron Review, and others. She’s received recognition in a range of competitions, including Smokelong, Cleaver, Raleigh Review, New Letters and Southampton Review. She’s a member the faculty at The Writer’s Studio and also a member of the school’s the Master Class where she studies with Philip Schultz. For more information, visit: or see her on Twitter @d_marcusa.

Photo Credit: Mike Mozart (edited)

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