“Did you remember to shut the windows in the back of the house? I can still feel a breeze.”
“I’ll get them in a little while. I’m listening to the game.”
“Do you hear that? It sounds like someone’s screaming.”
“What? No, I didn’t hear anything. It’s all in your head.”
“Well, if you’d take those headphones off maybe you’d hear better.”
“I’m trying to follow the game. It’s the bottom of the eighth. And would you quit peeking out the window?”
“I’ve got a right to look out my own window. There’s someone walking down the street, but it’s too dark to see anything.”
“Right. So quit looking. Jeesh, you’re a regular Peeping Tom. You’ll have Mrs. Anderson calling the cops on you again.”
“That wasn’t my fault. There it is again. Can’t you hear that?”
“I can’t hear anything, not with you talking so much. Drop the curtain and come sit down.”
“There’re two of them in the street now. They’re almost under the street lamp.”
“You’re an embarrassment, always spying on people.”
“They’re moving funny, sort of shuffling.”
“Shh…bases are loaded.”
“Did you hear that noise? I think it came from the back of the house. Go close the windows. Someone might be trying to break in.”
“If you’re so worried about it, go close them yourself.”
“Those people down the street are getting closer. They’re lurching and their clothes are all torn and dirty. I’m going to go lock the house up.”
“You know I can’t hear you when you walk away while you’re still talking.”
“I said I’m going to lo…”
“Erma? Erma? Jeesh, no need to get mad and quit talk…”
©2010 Laura Eno
