Such a calm street can hide the most gruesome secrets. Like the one day I returned home in the afternoon and a police officer stood outside my neighbor's door, arms crossed, strict face.
"Do you live here?" he asked with an extra manly voice.
"Oh... yeah... occasionally", I vaguely answered since I was subletting the apartment illegally.
"Were you here between Saturday afternoon and Monday morning?" he asked.
"Yes, I was."
"We'll come by and take your statement later."
It turned out that my neighbor had been shot in the head by a hit man, lying dead in his apartment for four days. All while I was on the other side of the wall, picking my nose, sleeping, hanging out, living my life in innocence.
That night when they had discovered the body I was so frightened. I had to sleep in my bed just next to the wall. On the other side was the Murder Apartment. As long as Grissom and the other C.S.I people were there I didn't feel alone and afraid, but when they left around midnight...
silence
blood
death
a hit man checking the apartment building
a hit man having my routines under control
Everytime I fell asleep the wall disappeared and I stood there with the body, a cold corpse, but with his eyes still alive, staring at me.
Photograph, text, and Swenglish syntax © Sandra 2006
