(Author’s note: I am currently in the beginning stages of transition from Australia to my next assignment, which will be in…I actually do not know where. We’ll see what happens. Here’s today’s Fictioneers offering, again not based on a true story.)

©Roger Bultot

Fellowship Hall

by Miles H. Rost

20 years.

Everyone was finally together. All 85 of Mitchell High School’s class of 1995. And the stories were flying.

“Do you remember Joan Snart? Apparently, she’s directing adult films in Hollywood.”
“Can’t be anything like my ex-boyfriend, Russell Graves. He’s the undercarriage cleaner for Greyhound in Seattle.”

The laughter was palpable, and the stories continued. That was, until the name was brought up.

“Anyone heard from Brian McLaurence?”

The entire place had become silent at that instant. The class looked at each other, and bowed their heads.

“Robbery,” someone said, “I was on duty. I found him. Died on scene.”

A sniffle started the flow of tears in the room.