It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen it. The fountain display at the Bellagio in Las Vegas is wondrous.
Minutes after arriving home from my morning run, my husband cornered me in a quiet spot in the kitchen. Backpack shuffling and cereal munching continued in the background as his words seemed to speak in slow motion, “Did you hear what happened in Vegas?”
Inhaling and exhaling deeply, I knew that the answer to the question involved death, an incident likely grave and unsettling.