He's Dead

He's dead.

I wake up for my softball game at 9am,

Come down for breakfast and my mom is crying.

My step-dad is sitting, holding his coffee mug like he's expecting it to fall through the table.

What's wrong?

He's dead.

5am this morning my mom wakes to thirty-seven missed calls.

Frantic, she calls back.

My grandma answers, sobbing. He's dead, he's dead.

What happened?

He's dead.

My grandparents woke up early, as always.

He went into the computer room, as always.

She started to make coffee, as always.

He goes downstairs into the garage, this is different.

A gun fires.

Of course, this is also different.