Gavel That Built Civilization

The pellet gun was in his right hand like a baton. He reached the end of the road sixteen seconds later and cut across a lawn onto the crossing street. He didn’t slow, sprinted down this street for about seventy yards. His car was parked on the right side of the road, next to a forty-foot stretch of wooden fence, shaded by a huge willow.

He jumped into his car, ignited the pistons, turned up the music, and drove home.

The next morning, on the opposite side of the street, Kyle walked by the house. The pear-shaped woman was sitting on the lawn, her head hidden within a man’s chest, crying.

She was crying.

Crying.

Crying.

She was saying, "God…?-what did I do to deserve this?"

He would wait one week.

--12/22/02