The Knock Came Before I Could Dial 911

The hand disappeared.

The skillet hit the window frame on the second swing and cracked the old paint. I slammed the window down and shoved the lock, but the lock was a joke. A thumb latch from 1982.

The man on the fire escape cursed. Not pain. Anger.

Then sirens hit the parking lot.

Real sirens. Close.

The banging at the front door stopped.

I looked out continue reading …