Unwanted

It’s 3 o’clock in the morning. Or night. That can be debated at a later time. I knew I shouldn’t have installed a digital clock in the ceiling. It seemed like a good idea, at first. Now, the blinking won’t leave me alone. It’s like the damn Motel 6 sign that beams through my window every time I travel and have to stay at one. Then again, that’s what I get for doing something that’s way over my head.

5 o’clock. No luck getting some shuteye. I hear a knock, or at least I think I heard a knock. Tick tock, tick tock, the digits in my ceiling seem to get brighter and louder. Knock, knock, who’s there? At this hour? I reach under my pillow and clutch the only safe object I feel comfortable with. The only haven I have is that between my bedroom and the front door. There are no windows between. I hate windows. Everyone could see what I’m doing if I did.

Closing in towards the front door and I realize I forgot my gun clip. I’m running around with no bullets in my gun. How could I be so stupid? Unprotected? That’s worse than asking for a chili dog and they forget to add the damn chili. I look through the peephole. I can’t figure out the face, but I can figure out the outline of this strange character: five foot seven, long hair, muscular, and seems to be holding something in his right hand. I quickly react and remember I have a spare clip in the cabinet next to me. It only holds one bullet, just for situations like this- emergencies. I quietly arm myself and count: 1,2… 3! Open the door and shoot him dead-on right on the forehead! Then, I realize I was wrong. To begin with, it was not a male. It was a lady. Then I realized that lady was actually not a threat, but my neighbor. I look next to her and an envelope reads, “Welcome to the neighborhood, partner” in the front of it.

Then everything comes together. I realize I’m no longer my old 26 year old at his prime of private detective. The only thing I’m good at and have kept after all these years is my paranoia. This is what paranoia and Alzheimer’s does to a man. It makes you a wanted man for murder of an innocent neighbor. If only it was still night. 3 o’clock, that is. I wouldn’t be over my head.


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