Within Sanity’s Stroll

Mary had never seen so many people out and about in her neighborhood at once. Sure, she lived in an active city, but it seemed everyone on her street had decided to be outside: there was Mrs. Johnson from the house on the end of the cul-de-sac, and Matthew Case with his dog Piper, and even the adorable little H family, named for the giant wooden H that hung on their front door.

True, it was a little jarring to see everyone out today since Mary considered herself a bit of an introvert. While she did know a lot about her neighbors just from observation, she’d never said more than a few words to any of them at one time. A simple “How are you?” and “Good!” repeated over and over again until they all either moved or died. But it was a nice day out today, so why shouldn’t they all be enjoying it? The sun is shining brightly, there’s a light breeze blowing just enough to ruffle her hair; it’s a serene and a peaceful Saturday. She’d been awake all night, hard at work, but by all definitions, it was a lovely day.

Maybe that’s what causes Mary to step out of her shell a little bit.

“Howdy neighbor!” She greeted as she approached Mr. Case and Piper. The little Shih Tzu tugged on her leash to get closer, happily licking at Mary’s palms as she crouched down to pet the pup.

“Mr. Case?” Mary asked, tilting her head as she glanced up at him. The man was staring at her blankly, appearing almost frozen in place. He had one arm outstretched, looking to all the world like he was going to shake her hand.

“Well, it was good to see you,” Mary hummed, reaching out to shake his hand. “You might want to give Piper a bath—she’s a little dirty.” She quickly dropped his hand and continued her leisurely stroll down her street as the man squatted down to pet Piper.

The H family’s house was next, the beautiful front lawn covered in children’s toys—dolls and toy cars and colorful balls of all shapes and sizes. Mary loved observing the little H family with their young love and even younger children. It was sweet, if a little painful—a reminder of all the things Mary would never have.

Now, though, the children laughed and squealed as they pushed each other on the tire swing hanging from the tall oak tree in their front yard.

“Good morning,” Mary said gleefully, waving to the children as she approached. They hopped from the swing at the sight of her, shrieking joyfully as they

Dorothy Shytles

started darting around the yard in a fast-paced game of tag. Mary chased them playfully for a short while before stopping to catch her breath.

“I’m not as young as I used to be,” she said, waving goodbye to the children as they threw their front door closed behind them, the wooden H on the door rattling.

It’s Mrs. Johnson she happens upon afterwards, the woman tending her garden in a large sun hat to help keep her face from burning in the sunshine.

“Mrs. Johnson, how are you?” Mary inquired innocently.

“Terrible,” the old woman growled without looking up, ripping weeds from her perfectly–manicured flower beds. If Mary didn’t know better—and she did—she’d assume that all Mrs. Johnson ever did was yell at children to get off her lawn and terrorize the dandelions that just wanted to grow peacefully in her well-watered yard.

“Why so terrible?” Mary asked, furrowing her brow.

“It’s these stupid weeds,” the woman huffed, wiping her brow with her wrist as she continued to mostly ignore Mary’s presence.

“Your yard is perfect,” Mary said, trying to stop the jealousy from seeping into her voice. Her own yard looked like the heat was slowly killing it, leaving it brown and wilting when compared to Mrs. Johnson’s own lush landscape.

“Perfectly covered in weeds,” the woman tacked on, standing up and facing Mary as she continued, “and I’ve been kept up til all hours of the night because of that infernal noise you call music—” Mrs. Johnson cut herself off, gasping as if she had suddenly remembered something important she might have forgotten.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, Mrs. Johnson,” Mary sighed, brushing her hands on her pants as the woman moved back down to her flower beds. Mary wandered towards her own home, ignoring her neighbor’s indignant shrieks at being cut off mid-complaint.

Mrs. Johnson had always had an issue with Mary’s music, the kind she and her husband had loved to play together before his early passing. The car crash that had happened just over six months ago had been sudden and painful for Mary; she’d never love again. Many of the neighbors had attended the small service, having loved her husband almost as much as her. He had always been the more outgoing one of the pair.

She hadn’t yet reached her front door when several cars pulled up, their tires squealing on the pavement as they came to a quick stop. Several people stepped out of them, but the tallest man started walking towards her. She smiled politely at him.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen, what can I do for you—”

“Mary Williams, you are under arrest for possible first-degree murder of two individuals.”

Oh, Mary thought passively.

“You have the right to remain silent,” the man in uniform continued. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have the right—”

“What gave me away?” Mary asked him, not resisting in the slightest as she tucked her hands behind her back. He paid her no mind.

“—if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you—”

“Of course,” Mary sighed. “I should have known. I know it’s important to tie up loose ends. But I just loved the little H family so much, you know?”

The man who was speaking had fallen silent, having finished his monologue, and was listening to her. She appreciated his patience.

“I figured I could leave them be. They didn’t come to the service because their youngest was ill—flu season and all that,” Mary said, muttering to herself, running her hand through her hair that was sticking to her face. “Not like Matthew and his stupid dog. Good Lord she was irritating, always yapping when people were trying to sleep,” Mary plowed on as the other officers started to herd her towards the vehicle. “And Mrs. Johnson, with her—”

The man situating her in the back of the car stopped to offer her a rag for her hands.

“Oh, thank you kindly, Mr...” the man paused in his act of shutting the door.

“Miller,” he said hesitantly. “Officer Miller.” The car door closed quietly.

“What a lovely name,” Mary hummed to herself as she scrubbed at the dark red stains on her hands.