They would stroll through their garden until the early hours of the morning, taking comfort in the resolutely June dirt underfoot, yet each step dropped as if from a torn seed packet. Finally one afternoon his taxi pulled up. When he rang the bell, no one answered. It means business. I lower the blinds and a name's left unfinished on frightened lips.
Lights go on.
A siren's crying far off. The neighbor comes home and fumbles with his key, doesn't notice what's pushing its fingers between the bricks. His wife opens the door. Get in here, you damn drunk. I walk into the bedroom and you are lying there naked.