⠀⠀⠀⠀I’d been packed and moving out, prepared to leave as requested. That
⠀⠀⠀⠀was not a departure good enough to leave vacancy enough for incoming
⠀⠀⠀⠀visitors to slip into. Halfway up the stairs inside, back through one of the
⠀⠀⠀⠀front windows, one of your latest invited guests aimed his gun at me,
⠀⠀⠀⠀fired a shot way off target and several more as blindly missing, then
⠀⠀⠀⠀happened by luck to get one shot to crease my scalp enough to draw blood,
⠀⠀⠀⠀then one last lucky shot nearby before his remaining attempts went fading
⠀⠀⠀⠀off like a receding summer storm, that soon done.
⠀⠀⠀⠀”Yellow,” that word choice seemed too harsh to be meant at you the way
⠀⠀⠀⠀your note was written, so I realized you wanted me to respond by telling
⠀⠀⠀⠀you no, you weren’t so, that if anything I was the one yellow for not putting
⠀⠀⠀⠀up any more of a fight when asked to leave. Already the ink was becoming
⠀⠀⠀⠀too light to make out what else you might have wanted to say. Clearly I was
⠀⠀⠀⠀not to be sharing it with anyone else. Since you were truly sorry for not
⠀⠀⠀⠀running down to do anything to stop the shooting, that would have to be
⠀⠀⠀⠀between me and you. “Let’s be a friend, Cyn, don’t tell anyone.” You get to
⠀⠀⠀⠀be the one to say who got left by whom where why.
⠀⠀⠀⠀So I left all my luggage, my books and my clothes, to be sent on after me.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Got myself a ticket on a long flight south. On a matter you wouldn’t want
⠀⠀⠀⠀to be bothered with, busy as you’ve been upstairs. Flight attendant took
⠀⠀⠀⠀one look at me, instantly upgraded me to first class, window seat. Man in
⠀⠀⠀⠀the aisle seat gets talking to me about how he works as a futurist for the
⠀⠀⠀⠀federal government. Impossible to get him to shut up, difficult to ignore.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Insists he read my palm. Oh damn it, ok. He sees all the lines filled in with
⠀⠀⠀⠀dried blood, I suppose run down from where I was shot, takes some on his
⠀⠀⠀⠀fingertips, sniffs lightly at it, lifts my hand to his nose to explore more fully,
⠀⠀⠀⠀closes his eyes, eventually returns my hand to me and lies back on his seat,
⠀⠀⠀⠀fast asleep. “What?” I whisper into his dreams. He replies without waking,
⠀⠀⠀⠀”One of us caught the wrong flight.”