Passing Words: Annunciation School

You could feel them move past, wings stirring the air, warmth of their golden light shining - angels in twos and threes, an army descending. The radiance was truly blinding; three for the dead, two for each surviving child, one for the guardians (crippled in spiritual agony), one for the others (who tried to cover, who tried to run, who stayed petrified in place and would wonder if they "could have" or "should have" for the rest of their lives), and two ... and then the two ... dressed in somber clothing, eyes firmly set, slow as if weighted, taking the side steps down away from the rest. "Those are for the parents of the shooter," someone said, and Peter stared down, cigarette held in his right hand. "Peter," someone whispered, but someone else shushed. "Don't," they said, "it's allowed when ... you know." "Of the three who descend for the dead, two stand on each side of the body in honor, and one moves gently through one or both parents in order to smell like them before retrieval," Peter whispered, tapping his ash on a nearby cloud, "because this can be a confusing time ... it can be confu- ..." Whoever was near, they resisted the desire to embrace him and give comfort, which was the right choice - exactly the right choice.