Meth Lab Arson

Sirens by themselves tend not to disturb us anymore.  Now it takes a combination of sirens plus the rev of multiple engines, or our living room being bathed in alternating colored strobe lights.  We finally paused our movie, an early 1970s futuristic German movie about computers where there were long shots of people not looking at one another and faces reflected in mirrors, to look outside.  The alley behind the houses across the street was bathed in headlights, which was the only reason we saw a plume of dark smoke.  A house that faced the alley was burning, which was enough for us to put on actual clothes and shoes to go look.  It seemed like the whole neighborhood had waddled down to ogle the destruction.

Abuse Dynamics

I swore I'd never be the kind of girl who ran behind her boyfriend, crying.  Where the boyfriend stomps on ahead, brow lowered and thrust forward, lips compressed, dropping the door on the girl as she stumbles along, begging for him to stop and just talk for a moment and she's sorry, even if she doesn't know why, and if he would only give her a chance.  The kind of girl who would sob that she wished he would stop and talk, while at the same time knowing and secretly dreading his dead-stop and one-foot pivot, rounding on her like a bear, pointing his finger or even raising his fist.

Loving Siblings

"What makes you think I don't love my brother?"

"The way you talk about him."

"And what way is that?"  She finished pouring and set the kettle back with a clunk.

"You're always telling me stories about how awful he was to you.  How awful he is to you."

"Yeah, and he's my brother, so I can say he's a jerk and still love him, can't I?"

"I wouldn't have thought so."

"Well, I do.  He is a jerk; he is my brother; I love him.  You, however, can have no opinion."

Outliving Old Friends

An old woman creaked onto the bus and lowered herself carefully into the first row.  Halle sat a few rows back and wondered what it would be like when her first friend died of old age.  Unless, her mind wandered towards the idea, she would be the first.  She made herself long-lived and killed off her friend Nora at the age of 89, which she felt was pretty good.  You can't complain if you manage to hit 89.  Halle imagined herself mourning each of her friends, wearing black to their funerals, and being patted for her losses as everyone she knew dropped away into time.