i wake up without really waking up. i slide out of bed and sleepily by-pass my anti-kitty-litter shoes as i tip-toe naked down the entry hall thinking “it’s after 1am. i don’t have to answer the door if i don’t want to and it’s too dark in here for them to know if i’m looking through the peephole.”
i peep quickly, but see nothing on the other side of the door.
i reach into the dark of the bathroom to grab my robe off the hook.
city of dallas police department!
“just a moment,” i respond bleakly.
i opened the door to a man in uniform.
there’s been an incident down at the end of the building. do you own a ford f-150?
“a-uh-um-a-ford...,” i respond.
i know i have a ford and i know it has some numbers after it and i know that these days bad luck follows me like a pack of hungry wolves pacing an innocent and unsuspecting flock of sheep. so i don't experiencing any initial angst that the ford has spontaneously combusted or been set ablaze by vandals or spray painted or busted up or run into.
it has texas a&m plates.
“oh. uh, no, it’s not mine.”
sorry to disturb you. have a good night.
“yes?” my neighbor mutters as he cracks open his door and i slid mine shut.
it's not until i'm on my way back down the hall that i notice the hard beating of my heart. three times as hard as when i sometimes lie in bed worried i’m about to die. so hard it feels like that’s almost all i am... a beating heart obliterating the rest of my being.
i crawl back into bed scraping the errant specks of cat litter from the soles of my feet as i go.
am i going to die?
my heart is making my entire body move with each thud!.
i finally fall back to sleep after debating whether or not to dress and go rubbernecking down at the end of the building only to wake up 20 minutes later to the sounds of what i think are multiple metallic slams and tumbles. i wait for a couple of minutes to see if i can discern continued sounds of possible marauders storming the interior of the building after overwhelming the police force outside before drifting back to sleep.