Page 33 - www.composition1.com

These adults now sound like they are going through typical high school bullshit. She also adds that
she doesn't trust Silvio's temper.

Then Lynne tells me that she knows that Silvio found her last time because Claire told her where
Lynne was staying, and that this was the reason why she hated and suspected her sister. Lynne's
face is so red that I decide I have to change the subject, and I tell her that her plants are dying. She
looks at me confused, then the redness goes away. She walks into the other room and then a few
seconds later she walks back out and hands me something. A packet of seeds.

She tells me that she made the mistake of trying to plant zinnias where there isn't much sunlight.
That zinnias can't survive in a shade garden. Since there was no other place to plant anything she
was instead going to plant Peace Lilies. She tells me that Peace Lilies flourish in the shade. She's
finally smiling again. This happy gene.

Not too long after I hear a knock on my door, and I go see who it is. I'm hoping it's not the return of
Claire and Silvio. I look down the hallway and I see a police officer and I inform him that I'm the
one who lives at that door.

The officer asks both Lynne and I if we saw or heard anything strange last night or this morning,
and we both say no. Lynne asks why and the officer tells her that there had been a murder not too
far from here. The murder that I walked past.

The officer tells us that before the man was murdered, several tenants from other apartment
buildings said he knocked on their door and asked strange questions and looked as if he were
confused. As if he didn't know what was going on and he had no real connection to the world
outside of his mind. As if he were unaware of his actions.

The officer asks if either of us received a visit from a man like that and we both said no, and then
went on to ask others in the building and then he left.

Two nights ago I had a dream where I was digging a grave. At first I'm standing in front of my
mother and my father's tombstones, and then I'm standing in the grave digging deeper and deeper
not realizing I won't be able to get out. I'm looking for my mother and father but no matter how
deep I dig I can't find them. It's funny how I say "them" instead of "the bodies." When a boy is alive
and well, you'll call him Jason, but when he's dead and his body is lifeless, most people refer to him
as "the body." Where's the body? Bring me the body.

Not where's Jason, not bring me Jason. I think most of the times the people who knew Jason would
keep calling him Jason because they don't want to realize his life is gone and all that's left is his
body. The human psyche at work.

I keep digging and digging but all I can see in my mind is Abraham Lincoln's face and what I think
is his voice. "We can never fool all of the people all of the time." I look up to see if Lincoln is
above me, speaking down to me, but he isn't there. Just a voice in my head.