I’m waiting for the face on the news to be his, to click a link on Facebook, open up to his mugshot. The round cheeks and dark eyes will give him away.
It might say “Pennsylvania Wife Murdered by Husband” or “Shooter Opens Fire on College Campus” or simply “Five Dead in Tioga County Shooting” on the ticker turning at the bottom of the screen.
And I’ll know before I see his face. There will be people at home who call and text, so I’m not ambushed.
But maybe they won’t make it in time, maybe it will happen so fast they won’t know who he is.
And the school will be my school, and the town will be my town, and the husband, the shooter, will be the first man I ever loved.
Rachel Roupp is a poet and editor from the mountains of Pennsylvania. Her poetry has appeared in Crab Fat Magazine, Chantwood Magazine, Honey & Lime, Rust + Moth, and Rag Queen Periodical, where she served as the Social Media Coordinator. She just wants Dolly Parton to be proud of her.