The night was calm enough for a late night walk. The rumblings from the city had died down early for the evening. No sounds of gunshots or fireworks. I threw on a light jacket, checked my watch, and headed out the front door.
The moon was full and hung high enough in the sky for a witch on a brom to zoom by. It was actually a bit more chilly than I was expecting. This light jacket isn’t going to do the job. Maybe I’ll make it a short walk.
I was new to this town, this neighborhood, but it seemed quiet enough. The neighbors seemed to leave you alone for the most part and would wave and say “hello” if you caught them in a gaze at seven in the morning. That’s fine, I think. That should be enough.
I turned down the next street and was greeted by a wonderful orchestra of rival TV stations blaring their voices out open windows. Light from the screens illuminated the living rooms and cascaded down onto my sidewalk.
I walked about a block before the street turned red. I stopped when the siren started in surround sound by each nearby home. It was a Response: an update. Shit, they ID’d me.
The voice announced my arrival to the neighborhood and the beady eyes turned from their screens and out their closest windows, down to me. I took off running back to my crash site.
Everywhere I looked, eyes looked down upon me. This might be the last. This might be…
