My tightened chest soaked in the sunlit day as I sped home. To some degree, but not entirely, Anne had the mindset of an emotional anarchist – – – there was no structure in her life or her mind that she could fully commit to. So, I really wasn't sure what I would find upon my arrival and braced for the range of possible images.
I flew up the steps and just as I inserted my keys in the door I heard Anne say something. I opened the door to find her standing in the kitchen, too color coordinated. Her eyes said don't run and hug her – I held myself back and tried to sound relaxed and just said I was really glad to see her, the understatement of all times. There was an old silver pistol, a large one, laying on the kitchen counter and I made sure that I was always between Anne and the gun as we began the next phase of the negotiation.
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A nice immediacy to this one. You keep us in your body here, which puts us in the scene. Oh yes, and a nice silver pistol is always good for grabbing our attention. Good stuff!
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