Days passed, each one bringing the neighborhood meeting closer.
I busied myself at the library, organizing the events that kept me grounded.
Yet, my mind drifted back to Marlene and the uneasy quiet surrounding her.
I found myself replaying our past interactions, searching for missed signs, things I could have said or done differently.
Every evening, during family dinners, my thoughts would wander back to her situation.
I couldn’t shake off a sense of responsibility, an urge to do something, although I wasn’t sure what.
The community was a small one, and news traveled fast, yet understanding lagged behind.
What was it that kept everyone at arm’s length from Marlene?
Fear, perhaps, of saying the wrong thing or making matters worse.
Or maybe it was just easier to pretend everything was fine.
