Suffering sadness, Sarah stood beside Sally’s sedan, slid sideways. The slick snowy streets were sown insufferably with slices of the senseless suicide. Sarah saw Sally’s sleeveless sweater settled stiffly on the silvery icy surface.
She said to sister Samantha, “So sad. Sally’s son Steve saved for six summers so Sally could sail the Salton Sea in September of seventy-seven.
Samantha sniffed as she said, “Suicide sucks.”
Sheriff Sol Sydleberg shuffled aside the sisters saying, “Sally certainly selected a superior site. She seemed sure she shouldn’t survive such a smashing.”
“Yes,” Sarah said, “Sally studied seriously. She seldom assumed success. She sincerely sought specifics.”
Samantha sobbed, “So stupid! Someone should have seen Sally’s sorrow!”
Sol Sydleberg shaking his snow-swathed scarf addressed the sisters saying, “Sometimes we seek sunshine, sometimes sorrow. Sorrow was a side of Sally we seldom saw.”
“Shit, Sheriff,” Sarah said, “Easy to say. We should’ve seen it sooner.”
“Should’ve’s seldom save sanity subsequent to suicide.”
“So you say,” Samantha shot hotly.
“Yes, I say,” Sol seethed.
“Screw you,” the sisters shouted simultaneously.