(no subject)
there were more gunshots last night. the first one was just after i finally crawled into bed around quarter to one. elvis and i had just negotiated a truce over the few square inches of bed space not devoted to a pile of unfolded laundry. BAM! it echoed and i thought this time that maybe i was hearing things. elvis ears perked up.
"goddammit," i thought to myself, laying in the dark with my eyes wide open, flipping my phone open and closed. two nights ago, i called 911. there is inevitably an element of self-consciousness in calling 911 two nights in a row. "fuck em. they can deal with it themselves. i need some sleep."
and though i almost instantly began to drift off, the next two shots rang out more distinctly. elvis jumped to his feet. i rolled over. "ugggghhh." my hand reached for the phone and started feeling for the digits to find Durham 911 programmed into my phone. the last two times i called the Durham police i got no response, but tonight i felt a neighborly obligation to try again. laying still under the covers, i listened to the hollow ring-tone for two or three minutes, wondering who in the hell i was calling and why. "forget it." i hung up and burrowed deeper into my sheets, recalling the freezing breath of the guys who stand on my street corner at night.
"goddammit," i thought to myself, laying in the dark with my eyes wide open, flipping my phone open and closed. two nights ago, i called 911. there is inevitably an element of self-consciousness in calling 911 two nights in a row. "fuck em. they can deal with it themselves. i need some sleep."
and though i almost instantly began to drift off, the next two shots rang out more distinctly. elvis jumped to his feet. i rolled over. "ugggghhh." my hand reached for the phone and started feeling for the digits to find Durham 911 programmed into my phone. the last two times i called the Durham police i got no response, but tonight i felt a neighborly obligation to try again. laying still under the covers, i listened to the hollow ring-tone for two or three minutes, wondering who in the hell i was calling and why. "forget it." i hung up and burrowed deeper into my sheets, recalling the freezing breath of the guys who stand on my street corner at night.