Page 23 - www.composition1.com

This place where there were no negative genes. No anger gene, no murder gene. No competitive
gene, no jealousy gene. People lived in harmony, and they all shared with each other. No one took
more than they needed and no one had to take less than they needed. There were apples on both
ends of the table, finally there was balance in this equation that I once thought could never make
any sense. I was at peace with myself and the world, but the time came when I had to leave. I had to
return to the world in which I came from because it was now someone else's time to find this
peaceful place. Simple mathematics.

In order for every one to be able to experience this utopia, this good place, when someone wants to
come in someone else has to leave to keep the balance, otherwise this good place becomes the bad
place. I turn around and look back at my bed for one last time, this place where I slept so
peacefully. There is a woman lying in it.

For a moment I'm at sixes and sevens, and I forget what I am suppose to do. After a few seconds I
remember and I start to walk away from this place, and it gets darker and darker with each step
until it's completely black, and then I wake up. I look to the right and I see my composition
notebook, and I do what I always do. I write down the dream.

Three nights ago I was checking my mail, and I decided to see how Lynne's flowers were coming
along. Her zinnias, her shade garden. I go outside and I see that they are beginning to grow. As I'm
standing there admiring her work, I see her walk through the front apartment building door with
David and Sarah. She takes a look at me, and I smile at her. Something I got used to doing.

The thing was that she didn't smile back at me, she just continued walking. She was in some sort of
a rush and I guess she didn't have time to say anything, or smile back. She puts her kids in the car
and then she gets in and she drives away.

Later that night I'm sitting in my living room watching television and I hear a loud banging. Bang,
bang, bang. I get up and look through the peephole. This fisheye view. Now the man is banging
and shouting. I can hear him, I'm sure every one in the building can, but I can't see him. After about
a minute he stops, and then he walks away. I see him pass by, but it's too quickly for me to see what
he looks like. I'm positive he is coming from Lynne's apartment because I know I heard the name
"Lynne" somewhere in his barrage of expletives.

I start to assume that this is what Lynne was hiding from. After he walks by, I'm still looking out of
the peephole, staring at Joe's apartment door.

Right now I'm standing over Lynne's body in her bedroom. She's deep asleep. I can tell she's
physically and psychologically tired. Tired of every thing. A few hours ago she knocked on my
door to apologize about not greeting me the other day.

She tells me that the whole time she was at the hotel with her kids, trying to hide from her
antisocial ex-husband, she was thinking about how she just walked away without acknowledging
me. I tell her it's okay, and I invite her into my apartment in an attempt to find out why she has
these bruises on her face.