Sarah Everhart sat on the floor of the produce section peeling an orange. She recognized the little girl who ran up to her, tears soaking her puffed face.

“My momma won’t get up,” the little girl blubbered. She could barely breathe.

Sarah shrugged as she dropped torn pieces of orange skin. Wailing and prayers rose from frozen foods to toilet paper. Ron Jackson gripped his wife Loretta’s hand like she was going to drop too. They ran out of the store together. 

Doesn’t know the bed she’s been roughing up, Sarah thought. “Maybe I’ll say something.” 

Half the store, dead, this time around. Here one second, gone the next.

Sarah shook her head.

“Momma!” The girl’s red cheeks stretched out. “Momma!” It was quite a spectacle.

Rolling the skinless orange around in her hand, Sarah leaned forward and said: “Your momma done deserved every single thing she got. Everything. Same with your daddy. Now run along.”

Mimi Needleman rushed up to the now not-crying surprisingly calm little girl and pulled her away. “You are evil, Sarah Everhart. Evil! Saying that to a little girl!” She turned her attention to the child, who was eyeing the orange-eating woman curiously. 

“Don’t you worry, Precious. You just keep to the Lord and He will save you from your momma’s suffering.” Mimi Needleman started to cry. “Just keep to the Lord. Now come along. Come along now.”

Sarah smiled as she ate the last bit of orange and listened to the wailing song. “Damn fools. Only think ’bout who’s gone, never do think ’bout why they left behind.” 

Then she laughed out loud, right there on the floor of the produce section. 

That sweet devil with the tear-flooded face? 

“Tiny bitch is gonna wait long, long days ‘fore she gets called home.”