chicago, west side

    She knew who they were coming for.

    she crouched in front of the window, straddling her chair. she moved from the corner. her coffee sat in the window sill, the condensation rising, beading on the window right about at her eye level. she took the side of her index finger periodically and smeared some of the water away to look into the streets.

    the snow was no longer falling on the west side of Chicago; it just packed itself darker and deeper into the ground with every car that drove over it.

    the gunshot was ringing in her ear still. it was so loud. the earth cried when she pulled that trigger. let out a loud, violent scream. she could still hear it. for these few moments, she had to just stare out the window and wait. she didn’t know if she should bother running, if it mattered or not. she couldn’t think.

    all she knew was that this time, when she heard the sirens coming from the streets, she’d know why they were coming. she’d know who they were coming for.

Copyright Janet Kuypers.
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