turns out i'm still a little afraid of the dark

This morning, for no reason at all, I woke up at precisely 5:02 a.m. I tossed around in bed for a few minutes, figured out I was a little hot, threw my blanket to the foot of the bed, realized the ceiling fan was only on medium, got up and put it on high, crashed back into my bed, and swore that out of the corner of my eye I saw a black cat walk by. It totally freaked me out, because I don't own a black cat. Just a brown-nosed pussy dog, but that's another story. Reminding myself that I am 27 and not 7, I chalked it up to my mind playing tricks on me and tried to go back to sleep.

Ten minutes later, through my open bedroom windows, I heard "POPPOPPOPPOPPOP. POPPOP. POPPOPPOPPOPPOP." I knew immediately it was gunshots. Less than a minute after that, I heard a car speeding down my street, the engine struggling to keep up with the tires.

Funny thing is, I didn't do anything about it. I didn't pick up my phone and call 911; I didn't run across the hall to Jane's bedroom and tell her what I had heard. I just lied in bed, trying to tell myself that the noise was just some kids playing with firecrackers at 5:15 on a Wednesday morning in April, but knowing that somewhere in my neighborhood, somebody just got shot ten times.

About ten minutes later, the police came. There weren't any sirens or flashing lights. The only way I knew they were there was because I could hear the dispatchers from their radios. I went to the window and made a tiny opening between the blinds, but I couldn't see the police. Instead, I saw a couple of young black men walking purposefully down the sidewalk, away from the area of the police and towards H Street. One had dreads and a sleeveless shirt and kept looking behind him. The other was tall with a long stride and stared straight ahead. Not far behind them was another young man, walking in the same direction and rolling a blunt. I knew they weren't killers. They were just young men trying to make a living on the corner of 9th and I at 5:15 a.m. on Wednesday morning in April, and they were forced to take a little break on account of the police being called to the scene of a shooting.

Finally, about 20 minutes later, I fell back asleep. I woke up at 8 a.m., an hour and a half later than I should have, threw on my skirt and black Ann Taylor cardigan set, and tore my room apart looking for the pair of nude Leggs I bought yesterday which appear to have gotten up and walked away. Finally ready to go, I walked out into the bright April morning and made my way to the bus stop, my iPod blasting an acoustic Esthero jam into my ears.
It's amazing how different the world is at 5:15 a.m. than it is at 9:00 a.m.