Strange, he thought, listening to the water cascade from the small dam into the river.  Strange how it reminded him of static on the television, despite being so very different a source. The white sound of nothing, but something all the same.  It soothed his nerves, as only childhood memories could.

Static was better than arguing.

Static didn’t raise its voice in venomous hate, spitting streams of sounds intended to wound.  Painful, terrible words that couldn’t be forgotten.

The static drowned it out.  It didn’t care to harm or help, it simply was.

Was that why he was here?

       Seeking a calm from the rage and cruelty, from the spite in the world?

The soothing consistency of it spread like a warm glow through his body.

His scowl faded and a smile took its place.

       He watched the reflective glow of the streetlamp along river ripples.  Skittering in such a way that it might be alive. Of course, nothing was alive in this river.  Nothing but bacteria and bugs in the stinking mud.

       A dark outline surfaced, blotting out the dancing lights before submerging again.  He watched the spot as it bobbed again and again and again. Caught in the small undertow.  Repeating the same methodical pattern that drew his eyes and soothed his turbulent soul.

       Then it stopped.

       A flash of blue and red painted the river as the police car zoomed by, revealing shadows once hidden.

       Her golden curls had caught on something, a stick perhaps, beneath the dam.  The torrent of water forcing her eyes open further than they had been in life.  She still managed to look shocked.

    Who wouldn’t be shocked, he mused, to find themselves a head without a body?

       The lights faded and the image was gone, but he wouldn’t forget.

       She shouldn’t have yelled so much.