A Thousand Small Explosions by John Marrs Read Free Book Online Page B

congregation with anecdotes about his life, what inspired him and how he carried himself as a confidant. She discovered he was a genuine team player both in and out of the sporting arena, a loyal pal and a good shoulder to cry on. She learned that he’d played hockey and badminton for the county; he’d become a vegetarian at the age of twelve and he’d overcome cancer when he was seventeen through chemotherapy and a positive attitude. Amanda thought back to the photos on his Facebook profile of his global travels and wondered if it’d been his brush with the disease that inspired him to see the world.
    Richard had also run two marathons to raise money for Macmillan Cancer Support and had organised for local people with learning difficulties to take part in assault courses and exercise programmes. His selfless deeds made Amanda feel like the laziest, most selfish person on earth and she knew that when her time came, she wouldn’t be remembered for her philanthropic ways like Richard was.
     
    *
     
    It had been a little over a fortnight since Amanda had learned the devastating news of her Match Your DNA Match’s death.
    She’d become frustrated at still not having heard a peep from him so she chose to make the first move and sent him an email introducing herself. She was careful not to mention she had looked him up on social media or that she kept a folder on her computer crammed with photographs she’d taken from his online profile. But she included a picture of herself, a flattering one taken three years earlier when she was lighter in weight and before divorce had aged her, and supplied her email address and mobile phone number.
    But much to her disappointment, she heard nothing in return. Her first thought was that Richard hadn’t found her photo attractive, before reminding herself that if you’ve been Matched, supposedly, looks were unimportant. So she considered if he’d been bitten by the wanderlust bug again and had gone travelling but there was no evidence of that online. Maybe he was locked up behind bars, just cripplingly shy, he’d broken both hands so he couldn’t type or perhaps he was dyslexic … Amanda was clutching at straws and she knew it.
    It was only by chance when she clicked on his Facebook page for the umpteenth time that she saw a message left by his sister a day earlier, informing Richard’s friends of the date and address of his memorial. 
    Amanda sat bolt upright in her seat and then glared at the screen, and re-read the message. ‘Memorial?’ she spoke aloud. ‘What the hell?’ It didn’t make sense, Richard couldn’t be dead. They’d only just found each other – how on earth could the one person in the world who was supposed to have been made for her no longer be living? And how had she not read about this sooner?
    On further examination, Amanda discovered that while Richard’s profile pictures were public, not all his posts were. She requested to be friends with him, in the hope that his sister agreed so she could learn more. And after checking for confirmation almost every waking hour for two days, her friendship had been approved. There, she found thread after thread of tribute messages had been posted from Richard’s friends across the world, each paying their respects to someone who’d touched them emotionally.
    Amanda fought back her grief as it threatened to tear her apart like a bird hitting a propeller. She poured herself a third glass of Prosecco and scanned online local newspapers carefully, piecing together information about Richard’s accident like a jigsaw. She discovered that while he was out celebrating a victory with a group of hockey teammates late one evening, Richard had become separated from them, stumbled into a road and was struck by a hit-and-run driver. He’d been found a few hours later in a roadside verge with serious head injuries.
    Finally Amanda succumbed to her emotions and began to cry, then texted her boss to tell him she was poorly