Stacey

I didn't know her really. She knew me though, I would come to the restaurant in the morning and wait for Bud, my boss. He was usually the late one. She always brought my coffee in one hand, my placemat in the other. "Will Bud be joining you?" she'd say. The reply was usually yes. Then she'd politely walk away and leave me alone to read what ever it was I had in my hands to read that morning. I think I told her my sister's name was Stacey and that's how I'd always remember her name. It was one of those moments where my thoughts were loud in my head, but now that I think about it, I don't remember if I actually said it. I wanted to, but I think I thought it would be no big deal to her. Maybe I never did tell her. Now I wish I had.

Stacey died this morning. I don't think she was any older than twenty five, if she was, she didn't look it. She always wore her hair in a bun, her neck was long, and her body very slim. She had a ballerina's body. I never asked her if she was ever a dancer either. I should have.

She died in a car accident. She was late to work, perhaps she was speeding. No one knew what happened by the time I found out, that was around 1:00 today. The authorities weren't telling people the details, I guess they hadn't quite figured it out yet.

I must have stormed into the restaurant just after finding out, because everyone inside turned and looked at me as I entered. I looked around and realized all the girls were already crying; their faces were swollen and their eyes were puffy. Inside my head I said, "ah shit." Out of my mouth came, "I'm so sorry." Then I hugged everyone of them.

I guess I'll find out tomorrow what happened. For now, I'll say a prayer and hope that the people that loved her will be okay. I'm sorry for Stacey, she apparently just began getting her life together, poor thing. Life is so fragile, life is so precious, but sometimes I guess we forget.