Mark's Pages

July 24, 2004:

The apartment from your childhood. Morning light from east-facing windows.

Sleepy: just awake. Walk toward the kitchen. Stop: there are jagged holes in the living room windows. Ah. They've broken in again.

"Hello!" Shout. "If you're still here. Just leave. No problems." Look around: no property seems missing.

He's there in the kitchen. You sigh, exasperated. "Just go," you say.

No. He's got a small revolver, pointed at you. Gunfighter quick-draw and now you've got an automatic pointed at him. He won't leave, so, you fire.

As so often happens, there's no result. The situation remains unresolved.