I was applying velcro strips to a usb hub. Richie was drawing on the sofa with booba (Archie's Pekingese) There was no music or TV. This fact didn't make the silence more noticeable, until the silence was broken.
Richie and I disagree on the number of shots fired outside my apartment. We both remember that they were so loud, they seemed to be right outside the window. Yells of "Cover, Cover..." and "Down GET DOWN," Had they been intended for us, would have been late. We heard the rest of the confrontation from the floor of the closet.
It turns out, the shots seemed so close, because they were. I am fairly sure they originated somewhere East of my building on John. Exactly how many reached their target, I don't know. Enough to kill the man on the receiving end. The crime scene, ran from Broadway To Tenth and was marked by Yellow caution tape, effectively putting the residents in lock down, Also preserving the scene for what must have been three or four hours. Just a stark white sheet, too short to conceal the corpse, leaving the feet exposed.
So many thoughts enter and exit my mind, sticking on something seemingly trivial, Im almost embarrassed. But Dammit, why can't the sheet be long enough?
